applctons' 

XTown  an^  Country 

Xibrar^ 

No.  216 


THE  SUN   OF  SARATOGA 

A    ROMANCE  OF   BURGOYNE'S    SURRENDER 


/ 


cj^-    SUf 


V  t~. 


OF   SARATOGA, 


v/ 


H  IRomance  of  Buroopne's  Surrender 


BY 


JOSEPH   A.    ALTSHELER 


P^  (?   ,    P   ^    0  0 


® 

F^ 

tdol 

A-?  ;■  3i  y 

!g^1 

NEW   YORK 

' 

D.    APPLETON    AND   COMPANY 

1897 

Property  of  the  Libr 
University  cf  Water 

Copyright,  1897, 
By  D.   APPLETON  AND   COMPANY. 


CONTENTS. 


CI!  iFTER 

1. — On  watch    . 
ii. — a  light  in  the  window 
iii. — a  shot  from  the  window 
IV. — Out  of  the  house 
V. — My  superior  officer 
VI. — Belt's  ghost 
VII. — In  Burgoyne's  camp  . 
VIII. — A  night  under  fire  . 
IX. — My  guide     . 
X. — The  sun  of  Saratoga 
XI. — The  night  after 
XII. — We  ride  southward  . 
XIII. — We  meet  the  fleet  . 
XIV.— The  pursuit  of  Chudleigh 
XV. — The  taking  of  Chudleigh 
XVI. — The  return  with  Chudleigh 
XVII. — My  thanks  . 
XVIII. — The  battle  of  the  guns 
XIX. — The  man  from  Clinton 
XX.. — Not  a  drop  to  drink 
XXI. — The  messenger    . 
XXII. — Capitulations 


PACE 

I 
i6 

29 

49 
62 

77 

91 

108 

iiS 
132 
143 
155 
169 
186 
199 
219 
232 
246 

259 
274 

295 
310 


I 


THE  SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ON    WATCH. 

"  You  will  watch  this  hollow  and  the  hill 
\  onder,"  said  the  general,  "  and  see  that  not 
a  soul  passes  either  to  the  north  or  to  the 
south.  Don't  forget  that  the  fate  of  all  the 
colonies  may  depend  upon  your  vigilance." 

Then  he  left  me. 

I  felt  much  discomfort.  I  submit  that  it  is 
not  cheering  to  have  the  fate  of  thirteen  large 
colonies  and  some  two  or  three  milHon  people, 
men,  women,  and  children,  depend  upon  one's 
own  humble  self.  I  like  importance,  but  not 
when  it  brings  such  an  excess  of  care. 

I  looked  to  Sergeant  Whitestone  for  cheer. 

"  We  are  not  the  only  men  on  watch  to  cut 
ofif  their  messengers,"  he  said.  "  We  have  our 
bit  of  ground  here  to  guard,  and  others  have 
theirs."  '  ^ 


2  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

Then  he  sat  down  on  the  turf  and  smoked 
his  pipe  with  provoking  calm,  as  if  the  troubles 
of  other  people  were  sufficient  to  take  our  own 
away.  I  decided  to  stop  thinking  about  failure 
and  address  myself  to  my  task.  Leaving  the 
sergeant  and  the  four  men  who  constituted 
my  small  army,  I  took  a  look  about  me.  The 
hollow  was  but  a  few  hundred  yards  across, 
sparse-set  with  trees  and  bushes.  It  should  not 
be  difficult  to  guard  it  by  day,  but  by  night 
it  would  be  a  different  matter.  On  the  hill 
I  could  see  the  walls  and  roof  of  the  Van  Au- 
ken  house.  That,  too,  fell  within  my  terri- 
tory, and  for  reasons  sufficient  to  me  I  was  sorry 
of  it. 

I  walked  part  of  the  w^ay  up  the  hillside, 
spying  out  the  ground  and  seeing  what  places 
for  concealment  there  might  be.  1  did  not 
mean  to  be  lax  in  my  duty  in  any  particuk  r. 
I  appreciated  its  full  import.  The  great  idea 
that  we  might  take  Burgoyne  and  his  whole 
army  was  spreading  among  us,  and  it  was 
vital  that  no,  news  of  his  plight  should 
reach  Clinton  and  the  other  British  down 
below  us.         '  "  ' 

I  came  back  to  Sergeant  Whitestone,  who 


ON    WATCH.  3 

was  still  sitting  on  the  ground,  puffing  out 
much  smoke,  and  looking  very  content. 

"  I  don't  think  we  need  fear  any  attempt 
to  get  through  until  night,"  he  said.  "  The 
dark  is  the  time  for  messengers  who  don't  want 
to  be  seen." 

I  agreed  with  him,  and  found  a  position  of 
comfort  upon  the  grass. 

"  There's  our  weak  point,"  said  the  ser- 
geant, waving  his  hand  toward  the  Van  Auken 
house.     . 

I  was  sorry  to  hear  him  say  so,  especially 
as  I  had  formed  the  same  opinion. 

"  But  there's  nobody  up  there  except 
women,"  I  said. 

"  The  very  reason,"  replied  the  sergeant. 

I  occupied  myself  for  a  little  while  tossing 
pebbles  at  a  tree.  Then  I  disposed  my  men  at 
suitable  distances  along  our  line,  and  concluded 
to  go  up  to  the  house,  which  going,  in  good 
truth,  was  part  of  my  duty. 

I  was  near  the  top  of  the  hill  when  I  saw 
Kate  Van  Auken  coming  to  meet  me. 

"  Good  morning,  Dick,"  she  said. 

"  Good  morning,  Mistress  Catherine/'  I  re- 
plied. 


4  THE   SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 

It  had  been  my  habit  to  call  her  Kate  when 
we  were  children  together,  but  I  could  not 
quite  manage  it  now. 

"  You  are  set  as  a  guard  upon  us?  "  she  said. 

*'  To  protect  you  from  harm,"  I  replied  with 
my  most  gallant  air. 

''  Your  manners  are  improving,"  she  said  in 
what  I  thought  rather  a  disdainful  tone. 

"  I  must  search  the  house,"  I  continued. 

"  You  call  that  protecting  us? "  she  said 
with  the  same  touch  of  sarcasm. 

"  Nevertheless  it  must  be  done,"  I  said, 
speaking  in  my  most  positive  manner. 

She  led  the  way  without  further  demur. 
Now  I  had  every  confidence  in  Kate  Van  Au- 
ken.  I  considered  her  as  good  a  patriot  as 
myself,  though  all  her  family  were  Tory.  It 
did  not  seem  to  me  to  be  at  all  likely  that  any 
spy  or  messenger  of  the  British  had  reached 
the  concealment  of  the  house,  but  it  was  my 
duty  to  be  sure. 

*'  Perhaps  you  would  not  care  to  talk  to  my 
mother?  "  she  asked. 

"  No! "  I  replied  in  such  haste  that  she 
laughed. 

I  knew  Madame  Van  Auken  was  one  of  the 


ON   WATCH.  5 

most  fanatic  Tories  in  New  York  colony,  and  I 
had  no  mind  to  face  her.  It  is  curious  how 
women  are  more  hard-set  than  men  in  these 
matters.  But  in  my  search  of  the  house  I  was 
compelled  to  pass  through  the  room  where  she 
sat,  most  haughty  and  sevt  c  Kate  explained 
wlat  I  was  about.  She  never  spoke  to  me, 
though  she  had  known  me  since  I  was  a  baby, 
but  remained  rigid  in  her  armchair  and  glow- 
ered at  me  as  if  I  were  a  most  wretched  villain. 
I  confess  that  I  felt  very  uncomfortable,  and 
was  glad  when  we  passed  on  to  another  room. 

As  I  had  expected,  I  found  nothing  sus- 
picious in  the  house. 

''  I  hope  you  are  satisfied?  "  said  Miss  Van 
Auken  when  I  left. 

For  the  present,"  I  replied,  bowing, 
rejoined  Sergeant  Whitestone  in  the  hol- 
low. He  w^as  still  puffing  at  his  pipe,  and  I  do 
not  think  he  had  changed  his  position  by  the 
breadth  of  a  hair.  I  told  him  I  had  found 
nothing  at  the  house,  and  asked  what  he 
thought  of  the  case. 

*'  We  may  look  for  work  to-night,  I  think," 
he  replied  very  gravely.  "  It's  most  likely  that 
the  British  will  try  to  send  somebody  through 


a 


T 
X 


6  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

at  this  point.  All  the  Van  Aukens,  except  the 
women,  are  with  Burgoyne,  and  as  they  know 
the  ground  around  here  best  they'll  go  to  Bur- 
goyne and  have  him  send  the  men  this  way." 

That  was  my  thought  too.  Whitestone  is 
a  man  of  sound  judgment.  I  sent  two  of  our 
lads  toward  the  house,  with  instructions  to 
watch  it,  front  and  rear.  It  was  my  intent  to 
visit  them  there  later. 

Then  I  joined  Whitestone  in  a  friendly  pipe 
and  found  much  consolation  in  the  good  to- 
bacco. Kate's  manner  had  nettled  me  the  least 
bit,  but  I  reflected  that  perhaps  she  was  justi- 
fied, as  so  many  of  her  people  were  with  Bur- 
goyne, and,  moreover,  she  was  betrothed  to 
Chudleigh,  an  Englishman.  Chudleigh,  an  offt- 
cer  with  Tryon  in  New  York  before  the  war, 
had  come  down  from  Canada  with  Burgoyne. 
So  far  as  I  knew  he  had  passed  safely  through 
the  last  battle. 

I  had  naught  in  particular  against  Chud- 
leigh, but  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  might  find  a 
wife  in  his  own  country. 

The  day  was  slow.  I  would  rather  have  been 
with  the  army,  where  there  was  bustle  and  the 
hope  of  great  things,  but  Whitestone,  a  pack  of 


ON   WATCH.  7 

lazy  bones,  grunted  with  content.  He  stretched 
his  long  body  on  the  ground  and  stared  up  at  the 
sky  through  half-closed  eyes.  A  mellow  sun 
shone  back  at  him. 

Toward  noon  I  sent  one  of  the  men  to  the 
house  with  a  request  for  some  small  supply  of 
provision,  if  they  could  spare  it.  We  had  food, 
a  little,  but  we  wanted  more  Perhaps  I  ought 
to  have  gone  myself,  but  I  had  my  reasons. 
The  man  came  back  with  two  roast  chickens. 

"  The  old  lady  gave  me  a  blessing,"  he  s?id 
with  a  sour  face,  "  and  said  she'd  die  before 
she'd  feed  rebels  against  the  best  king  that  ever 
lived;  but  the  girl  gave  me  these  when  I  came 
out  the  back  way." 

We  ate  our  dinner,  and  then  I  changed  the 
sentinels  at  the  house.  Whitestone  relapsed 
into  his  apparent  lethargy,  but  I  knew  that  the 
man,  despite  his  seeming,  was  all  vigilance  and 
caution. 

We  looked  for  no  happenings  before  dark, 
but  it  was  yet  a  good  four  hours  to  set  of  sun 
when  we  heard  a  noise  in  the  south  and  saw 
some  dust  rising  far  down  the  hollow. 

Sergeant  Whitestone  rose  quickly  to  his 
feet,   smothered  the  fire  in   his  pipe,  and   put 


8  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

his  beloved  companion  in  an  inside  pocket  of 
his  waistcoat. 

"  A  party  coming,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  and  a  lot  of  'em,  too,  I  think,"  he 
replied,  "  or  they  wouldn't  raise  so  much  dust." 

One  of  the  men  ran  down  from  the  hill  where 
the  view  was  better,  and  announced  that  a  large 
body  of  soldiers  was  approaching.  I  called 
all  the  others  and  we  stood  to  our  arms,  though 
we  w^ere  convinced  that  the  men  marching  were 
our  own.  Either  the  British  would  come  w4th 
a  great  army  or  not  at  all. 

The  approaching  troops,  two  hundred  at 
least,  appeared  down  the  valley.  The  dust  en- 
cased them  like  armor,  and  one  can  not  tell 
what  a  soldier  is  by  the  dirt  on  his  uniform. 
Whitestone  took  one  long  and  critical  look  and 
then  unbuttoned  his  coat  and  drew  out  his 
pipe. 

"  What  are  they?  "  I  asked. 

"  Virginians,"  he  replied.  '*  I  know  their 
stride.  I've  served  with  'em.  Each  step  they 
take  is  exactly  two  inches  longer  than  ours. 
They  got  it  hunting  'possums  at  night." 

They  were  in  loose  order  like  men  who  have 
marched  far,  but  their  faces  were  eager,  and 


ON    WATCH.  g 

they  were  well  armed.  We  halted  them,  as  our 
duty  bade  us,  and  asked  who  they  were. 

'*  Re-enforcements  for  the  Northern  army," 
said  the  captain  at  their  head.  He  showed  us  an 
order  from  our  great  commander-in-chief  him- 
self. 

"  Where  is  Burgoyne?  "  he  asked  as  soon  as 
I  had  finished  the  letter.  '*  Is  he  still  coming 
south?  " 

"  He  is  but  a  few  miles  beyond  you,"  I  re- 
plied, "  and  he  will  come  no  farther  south. 
There  has  been  a  great  battle  and  we  held  him 
fast." 

They  gave  a  cheer,  and  some  threw^  up  their 
hats.  To  understand  our  feehngs  one  must  re- 
member that  we  had  been  very  near  the  edge 
of  the  ice,  and  more  than  once  thought  we 
would  go  over. 

All  their  weariness  gone,  these  long-legged 
Southerners  shouldered  their  rifles  and  marched 
on  to  join  the  great  belt  of  strong  arms  and 
stout  hearts  that  was  forming  around  the 
doomed  Burgoyne  and  his  army.  As  they 
passed.  Sergeant  Whitestone  took  his  pipe  out 
of  his  mouth  and  said: 

"Good  boys!" 


lO  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


Which  was  short,  but  which  was  much  for 


him. 


I  watched  their  dusty  backs  as  they  tramped 
up  the  valley. 

"  You  seem  to  admire  them,"  said  some  one 
over  my  shoulder. 

''  It  is  they  and  their  fellows  who  will  take 
Burgoyne,  Mistress  Catherine,"  I  replied. 

"  They  can't  stand  before  the  British  bayo- 
net," she  said. 

''  Sorry  to  dispute  the  word  of  so  fair  a 
lady,"  I  replied,  meaning  to  be  gallant,  ''  but  I 
was  at  the  last  battle." 

She  laughed,  as  if  she  did  not  think  much 
of  my  words.  She  said  no  more,  but  watched 
the  marching  Virginians.  I  thought  I  saw  a 
little  glow  as  of  pride  come  in  her  face.  They 
curved  around  a  hill  and  passed  out  of  sight. 

"  Good-by!  "  said  Mistress  Kate.  "  That's 
all  I  wanted  to  see  here." 

She  went  back  to  the  house  and  we  resumed 
our  tedious  watch.  Whitestone  had  full  war- 
rant for  his  seeming  apathy.  After  the  passage 
of  the  Virginians  there  was  naught  to  stir  us  in 
the  slightest.  Though  born  and  bred  a  country- 
man, I  have  never  seen  anything  more  quiet  and 


ON   WATCH.  II 

peaceful  than  that  afternoon,  although  two 
1;  ii'e  armies  lav  but  a  short  distance  awav,  rest- 
\\  '  from  one  blood v  battle  and  waiting;-  for  an- 
c  !ier. 

Xo  one  moved  at  the  house.  Evervbodv 
s  omed  to  be  asleep  there.  Some  birds  chat- 
t  red  undisturbed  in  the  trees.  The  air  had 
t  c  crisp  touch  of  early  autumn,  and  faint 
t  kens  of  changing  hues  were  appearing  al- 
r  ady  in  the  foliage.  I  felt  a  sleepy  languor 
1  ;c  that  which  early  spring  puts  into  the  blood. 
3  1  order  to  shake  it  off  I  becfan  a  thoroui?'h 
^  arch  of  the  country  thereabouts.  I  pushed 
1  \  way  through  the  bushes,  and  tramped  both 
t  '  the  north  and  to  the  south  as  far  as  I  dared 
to  from  my  post.  Then  I  visited  the  guards 
l\lio  adjoined  my  little  detachment  on  either 
>ide.  They  had  to  report  only  the  same  calm 
that  prevailed  at  our  part  of  the  line.     I  went 

)ack  to  Sergeant  W'hitestone. 

"  Better  take  it  easy,"  advised  he.  "  When 
there's  nothing  to  do,  do  it,  and  then  be  fresh 

0  do  it  when  there's  something  to  do." 

I  took  his  advice,  which  seemed  good,  and 
again  made  myself  comfortable  on  the  ground, 
waiting  for  the  coming  of  the  night.    It  was  still 


12  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

an  hour  to  set  of  sun  when  we  saw  a  inountedl 


officer  comine:  from  the  north  where  our  arm 


'& 


lay.  We  seemed  to  be  his  destination,  as  he  rode 
straight  toward  us.  I  recognized  Captain  Alar- 
tyn  at  once.  I  did  not  Hke  tliis  man.  I  had  no 
particular  reason  for  it,  though  1  have  found 
often  that  the  lack  of  reason  for  doiu"-  a  thint: 
is  the  very  strono^est  reason  whv  we  do  it.  I 
knew  little  about  Captain  Martyn.  He  had 
joined  the  Northern  army  before  I  arrived,  and 
they  said  he  had  done  good  service,  especially 
in  the  way  of  procuring  information  about  the 
enemy. 

Whitestone  and  I  sat  together  on  the  grass, 
The  other  men  were  on  guard  at  various  points, 
Captain  Alartyn  came  on  at  a  good  pace  until 
he  reached  us,  when  he  pulled  up  his  horse  with 
a  smart  jerk. 

"  Your  watch  is  over,"  he  said  to  me  with- 
out preliminary.  "  You  are  to  withdraw  with 
your  men  at  once." 

I  was  taken  much  aback,  as  any  one  else  in 
my  place  would  have  been  also.  I  had  received 
instructions  to  keep  faithful  guard  over  that 
portion  of  the  line  for  the  long  period  of  twenty- 
four  hours — that  is,  until  the  next  morning. 


ON   WATCH. 


1$ 


"  But  this  must  be  a  mistake,"  I  protested. 
*  Tlicre  is  nobody  to  relieve  us.  Surely  the  gcn- 
( lal  can  not  mean  to  leave  the  line  broken  at 
1  'lis  ])oint." 

"  If  vou  have  taken  the  direction  of  the 
campaign,  perhaps  you  had  best  notify  our  gen- 
rrals  that  they  are  superseded,"  he  said  in  a 
tunc  most  ironical. 

Pie  aroused  my  stubbornness,  of  which  some 
])C(»])le  say  I  have  too  much,  and  I  refused  to 
retire  until  he  showed  me  a  written  order  to 
■iiat  efYect  from  the  proper  officer.  Not 
.'hating  his  ironical  manner  one  whit-  he 
laid  it  toward  me  in  an  indifferent  way, 
>  much  as  to  say,  '*  You  can  read  it  or 
ot,  just  as  you  choose;  it  does  not  matter 
'.' '  rue." 

It  was  addressed  to  me,  and  notified  me 
i  rit'lly  to  withdraw  at  once  with  my  men  and 
rejoin  my  company,  stationed  not  less  than  ten 
liiiles  away.  Everything,  signature  included, 
as  most  proper,  and  naught  was  left  for  me 
to  do  but  to  obey.  The  change  vv'as  no  affair 
of  mine. 

"  Does  that  put  your  mind  at  rest?  "  asked 
Martyn. 


14 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


"  No,  it  does  not,"  I  replied,  "  but  it  takes 
responsibility  from  me." 

Sergeant  Whitestone  called  the  men,  and  as 
we  marched  over  the  hill  Alartyn  turned  his 
horse  and  galloped  back  toward  the  army. 
When  he  had  passed  out  of  sight  behind  the 
trees  I  ordered  the  men  to  stop. 

*'  Whitestone,"  said  I  to  the  sergeant,  who, 
as  I  have  said  before  was  a  man  of  most  acute 
judgment,  "  do  you  like  this?  " 

**  Small  liking  have  I  for  it,"  he  replied.  ''  It 
is  the  most  unmilitary  proceeding  I  ever  knew. 
It  may  be  that  our  relief  is  coming,  but  it  should 
have  arrived  before  we  left." 

I  took  out  the  order  again,  and  after 
scanning  it  with  care  passed  it  to  White- 
stone. 

Neither  of  us  could  see  anything  wrong- 
with  it.  But  the  sergeant's  manner  confirmed 
me  in  a  resolution  I  had  taken  before  I  put  the 
question  to  him. 

"  Sergeant,"  I  said,  ''  every  man  in  our  army 
knows  of  what  great  import  it  is  that  no  mes- 
senger from  the  British  should  get  through  our 
lines.  We  are  leaving  unguarded  a  place  wide 
enough  for  a  whole  company  to  pass.     I  think 


ON   WATCH.  15 

I'll  go  back  there  and  resume  guard.  Will  you 
oQ  with  me?  " 

He  assented  with  most  cheerful  alacrity,  and 
when  I  put  the  question  to  the  others,  stating 
that  I  left  them  to  do  as  they  pleased,  all  joined 
me.  For  what  they  believed  to  be  the  good  of 
the  cause  they  were  willing  to  take  the  risks 
of  disobedience,  and  I  was  proud  of  them. 

I  looked  about  me  from  the  crest  of  the  hill, 
i)iit  }^Iartyn  was  out  of  sight.  We  returned  to 
the  valley  and  I  posted  my  men  in  the  same 
positions  as  before,  my  forebodings  that  it 
would  be  a  night  of  action  increased  by  this 
event. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A    LIGHT    IX    THE    WINDOW. 

Two  of  my  men  were  stationed  near  the 
house,  but  I  had  so  placed  them  that  they  could 
not  be  seen  by  any  one  inside.  I  had  also  con- 
cealed our  return  from  possible  watchers  there. 
I  had  an  idea,  which  I  confided  to  Whitestone, 
and  in  which,  with  his  usual  sound  sense,  he 
agreed  with  me.  He  and  I  remained  together 
in  the  valley  and  w^atched  the  night  come. 

The  sun  seemed  to  me  to  linger  long  at  the 
edge  of  the  far  hills,  but  at  last  his  red  rim  w^ent 
out  of  sight,  and  the  heavy  darkness  which  pre- 
cedes the  moonlight  fell  upon  the  earth. 

**  If  anything  happens,  it  will  happen  soon," 
said  Whitestone. 

That  was  obvious,  because  if  Martyn  medi- 
tated treachery,  it  would  be  important  for  him 
to  carry  it  out  before  the  unguarded  point  in 

the  line  was  discovered.     Of^cially  it  was  un- 

16 


% 


A   LIGHT   IN   THE   WINDOW. 


17 


guarded,  because  we  were  supposed  to  have 
gone  away  and  stayed  away. 

j\Iy  suspicions  were  confirmed  by  the  non- 
arrival  of  our  rehef.  W'hitestone  still  took  his 
ease,  stretched  out  on  the  ground  in  the  valley. 
I  knew  he  missed  his  pipe,  but  to  light  it  would 
serve  as  a  warning  in  the  dark  to  any  one.  I 
visited  the  two  men  near  the  house  and  cau- 
tioned them  to  relax  their  watch  in  no  particu- 
lar. 

The  night  was  now  well  begun  and  I  could 
see  no  great  distance.  As  I  turned  away  from 
the  last  man  I  chanced  to  look  up  at  the  house, 
whose  shape  was  but  a  darker  shadow  in  the 
darkness.  At  a  narrow  window  high  up,  where 
the  sloping  eaves  converged,  I  saw  a  light.  Per- 
haps I  would  not  have  thought  much  of  it,  but 
the  light  was  moved  from  side  to  side  with 
what  seemed  to  me  to  be  regular  and  deliberate 
motion.  It  faced  the  north,  where  our  army 
lay. 

I  walked  twenty  steps  or  so,  still  keeping 
the  light  in  view.  Its  regular  swinging  motion 
from  side  to  side  did  not  cease,  and  I  could  not. 
persuade  myself  that  it  was  not  intended  as  a 
signal  to  some  one.     The  discovery  caused  in 


1 8  THE   SUN  OF   SARATOGA. 

me  a  certain  faintness  at  the  heart,  for  until  this 
night  I  had  thought  Kate  Van  Auken,  despite 
mother,  brother,  and  all  else,  was  a  true  friend 
to  our  cause  through  all. 

I  own  I  was  in  great  perplexity.  At  first 
I  was  tempted  to  enter  the  house,  smash  the 
light,  and  denounce  her  in  my  most  eloquent 
language.  But  I  quickly  saw  the  idea  was  but 
folly,  and  would  stand  in  the  way  of  our  own 
plans.  I  leaned  against  an  oak  tree  and  kept 
my  eyes  fixed  on  the  light.  Though  the  win- 
dows in  the  house  were  many,  no  other  light 
was  visible,  which  seemed  strange  to  me,  for  it 
was  very  early.  Back  and  forth  it  swung,  and 
then  it  was  gone  with  a  suddenness  which  made 
me  rub  my  eyes  to  see  if  it  were  not  still  there; 
nothing  ailed  them.  The  building  was  a  huge 
black  shadow,  but  no  light  shone  from  it  any- 
where. 

I  went  in  a  mighty  hurry  to  Whitestone  and 
told  him  what  I  had  seen.  He  loosened  the 
pistol  in  his  belt  and  said  he  thought  the  time 
for  us  to  make  discoveries  had  come.  Once 
more  I  agreed  with  him. 

I  drew  my  own  pistol,  that  it  might  be  ready 
to  my  hand,  if  need  be,  and  we  walked  a  bit 


A   LIGHT    IN   THE    WINDOW. 


19 


lip  the  valley.  It  was  very  dark  and  we  trusted 
more  to  our  ears  than  to  our  eyes,  in  which  trust 
wc  were  not  deceived,  for  speedily  we  heard  a 
faint  but  regular  thump,  thump,  upon  the  earth. 

'*  A  horse  coming,"  I  said. 

'*  And  probably  a  horseman,  too,"  said 
Wliitestone. 

How  glad  was  I  that  we  had  stayed!  It  was 
not  at  all  likelv  that  the  man  cominc:  had  anv 
lionest  business  there.  We  stepped  a  tritle  to 
one  side  and  stood  silent,  while  the  tread  of 
the  horse's  hoofs  crrew  louder.  In  a  fevv"  mo- 
mcnts  the  horseman  was  near  enough  for  us 
to  see  his  face  even  in  the  night,  and  I  felt  no 
surprise,  though  much  anger,  when  I  recog- 
nized Captain  Martyn.  He  was  riding  slowly, 
in  order  that  he  might  not  make  much  noise, 
I  supposed. 

I  stepped  forward  and  put  my  hand  upon 
bis  bridle  rein.  He  saw  who  it  was  and  uttered 
an  exclamation;  but  after  that  he  recovered 
his  self-control  with  a  quickness  most  astonish- 


ing. 


"  How  dare  you  stop  me  in  such  a  sudden 
and  alarming  manner?  "  he  said  with  an  appear- 


ance of  great  wrath. 


20  1'HE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

But,  very  sure  now  that  I  was  right,  I  in- 
tended neither  to  be  deceived  nor  overborne. 
I  ordered  him  to  dismount  and  surrender  him- 
self. 

"  You  are  very  impertinent,  sir,"  he  said, 
*'  and  need  chastisement." 

I  told  him  it  mattered  not,  and  ordered  him 
again  to  dismount.  For  reply  he  drew  a  pistol 
with  such  suddenness  that  I  could  not  guard 
against  it  and  fired  point-blank  at  my  face. 
It  was  the  kindly  darkness  making  his  aim  bad 
that  saved  me.  The  bullet  passed  me,  but  the 
smoke  and  flash  blinded  me. 

The  traitor  lashed  his  horse  in  an  attempt 
to  gallop  by  us,  but  W'hitestone  also  fired,  his 
bullet  striking  the  horse  and  not  the  man.  The 
animal,  in  pain,  reared  and  struck  out  with  his 
feet,  ^[artyn  attempted  to  urge  him  forward 
but  failed.  Then  he  slipped  from  his  back  and 
ran  into  the  bushes.  ]\Iy  eyes  were  clear  now, 
and  Wdiitestone  and  I  rushed  after  him. 

I  noted  from  the  very  first  that  the  man  ran 
toward  the  house,  and  again,  even  in  that  mo- 
ment of  excitement,  I  congratulated  myself  that 
1  had  expected  treason  and  collusion  and  had 
come  back  to  my  post. 


A   LIGHT   IN    THE   WINDOW.  21 

I  saw  the  captain's  head  appearing  just  above 
-onie  of  the  short  bushes  and  raised  my  pistol 
to  fire  at  him,  but  before  I  could  get  the  proper 
aim  he  was  out  of  sight.  We  increased  our 
ct'torts  in  fear  lest  we  should  lose  him,  and  a  few 
steps  further  heard  a  shot  which  1  knew  came 
from  one  of  my  men  on  guard.  We  met  the 
man  running  toward  us,  his  empty  ritle  in  his 
hand.  He  told  us  the  fuiritive  had  turned  the 
corner  of  the  house,  and  I  felt  that  we  had 
trapped  him  then,  for  the  second  man  on  guard 
there  would  be  sure  to  stop  him. 

We  pressed  forward  and  met  the  man  from 
behind  the  house,  attracted  by  the  sound  of 
shots.  He  said  nobody  had  appeared  there. 
I  turned  to  a  side  door,  convinced  that  Martyn 
had  found  refuge  in  the  house.  It  was  no  time 
to  stand  upon  courtesy,  or  to  wait  for  an  invita- 
tion to  enter.  The  door  was  locked,  but  White- 
stone  and  I  threw  our  full  weight  against  it  at 
the  same  time,  and  it  flew  open  under  the  impact 
of  some  twenty-five  stone. 

\\'e  fell  into  a  dark  hall  and  scrambled  in 
pressing  haste  to  our  feet.  I  paused  a  moment 
that  I  might  direct  the  soldiers  to  surround  tlie 
house  and  seize  any  one  who  came  forth.    Then 


F'S 


22  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

we  turned  to  face  ^ladame  Van  Auken,  who  was 
coming  toward  us,  a  candle  in  her  hand,  a  long 
white  robe  around  her  person,  and  a  most  icy 
look  on  her  face. 

She  began  at  once  a  very  fierce  attack  upon 
us  for  disturbing  quiet  folks  abed.  I  have  ever 
stood  in  dread  of  woman's  tongue,  to  which 
there  is  but  seldom  answer,  but  I  explained  in 
great  hurry  that  a  traitor  had  taken  refuge  in 
her  house,  and  search  it  again  we  must,  if  not 
with  her  consent,  then  without  it.  She  re- 
pelled me  with  extreme  haughtiness,  saying 
such  conduct  was  unworthy  of  men  who  pre- 
tended to  breeding;  but,  after  all,  it  was  no  more 
than  she  ought  to  expect  from  ungrateful  rebels. 

Her  attack,  most  unwarranted,  considering 
the  fact  that  a  traitor  had  just  hid  in  her 
house,  stirred  some  spleen  in  me,  and  I  bade  her 
very  stiffly  to  stand  out  of  the  way.  Another 
light  appeared  just  then  at  the  head  of  the 
stairway,  and  ^listress  Kate  came  down,  fully 
dressed,  looking  very  fine  and  handsome  too. 
with  a  red  flame  in  either  cheek. 

She  demanded  the  reason  of  our  entrv  with 
a  degree  of  haughtiness  inferior  in  no  wise  to    ^ 
her  mother's.     Again  I  explained,  angered  at 


A   LIGHT   IN   THE   WINDOW. 


23 


these  delays  made  by  women  who,  handsome 
or  not,  may  appear  sometimes  when  they  are 
iu)t  wanted. 

'*  Take  the  men,  all  except  one  to  watch  at 
the  door,  and  searcli  the  honse  at  once,  ser- 
<reant,"  said  1. 

W'hitestone,  with  an  indifference  to  their  bit- 
ter words  most  astonishing-,  led  his  men  up- 
stairs and  left  me  to  endure  it  all.  I  pretended 
not  to  hear,  and  taking"  the  candle  suddenly 
from  Kate's  hands  turned  into  a  side  room  and 
began  to  poke  about  the  furniture.  But  they 
followed  me  there. 

*'  I  suppose  you  think  this  is  very  shrewd  and 
xQvy  noble,"  said  Kate  with  a  tine  irony. 

I  did  not  reply,  but  poked  behind  a  side- 
board with  my  pistol  muzzle.  Both  Kate  and 
her  mother  seemed  to  me,  despite  tlieir  efforts 
to  repress  it,  to  manifest  a  very  great  un- 
easiness. I  did  not  wonder  at  it,  for  I  knew 
they  must  fear  to  be  detected  in  their  collusion 
with  the  traitor.  Kate  continued  to  gibe  at 
me. 

"  Oh,  well,  it's  not  Captain  Chudleigh  I'm 
looking  for,"  said  I  at  last. 

"  And  in  truth  if  it  were,  you'd  be  afraid 


24 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


to  find  liim."  rci)lie(l  she.  a  sprightly  Hash  ap- 
])eariiii4"  in  licr  eye. 

1  said  no  more,  content  with  my  hit.  I 
found  no  one  l^elow  stairs,  and  joined  While- 
stone  on  tlie  second  tloor,  the  women  still  fol- 
lowing- me  and  u])brai(lini^  me.  I  looked  more 
than  once  at  Kate,  and  I  could  see  that  she  was 
all  in  a  tremor.  I  doubted  not  it  arose  from 
a  belief  that  I  had  discovered  her  treachery,  as 
well  as  from  a  fear  that  we  would  capture  the 
chief  traitor. 

Whitestone  had  not  yet  found  our  man, 
thouc^h  he  had  been  in  everv  room  on  the  sec- 
ond  tloor  and  even  into  the  low-roofed  garret. 
/\t  this  the  two  women  became  more  contume- 
lious, crying  out  that  we  were  now  shamed 
l)y  our  own  acts.  But  we  were  confident  that 
the  man  was  yet  in  the  house.  I  pushed  into  a 
large  room  which  seemed  to  serve  as  a  spare 
chamber.  We  had  entered  it  once  before,  but  I 
thought  a  more  thorough  search  might  be 
made.  In  one  corner,  some  dresses  hanging 
against  the  wall  reached  to  the  floor.  I  prodded 
one  of  them  with  my  fist  and  encountered  some- 
thing soft. 

The  dress  w\as  dashed  aside  and  our  man 


A    LKiHT    IX    THE   WINDOW. 


25 


sprang  out.  There  was  a  low  window  at  the 
end  of  the  room,  and  with  one  bound  lie  was 
throui^h  it.  W'hitestone  fired  at  his  disappear- 
ini;-  body,  but  missed.  We  heard  a  second  shot 
from  the  man  on  guard  below,  and  then  we 
rushed  pell-mell  down  the  stairs  to  pursue  him. 

I  l)ethought  me  at  the  door  to  bid  one  of  the 
men  stay  and  watch  the  house,  for  1  knew  not 
what  further  treachery  the  women  might  medi- 
tate. Idiis  stopped  me  only  a  moment,  and 
then  I  ran  after  W'hitestone,  who  was  some 
steps  in  the  lead.  We  overtook  the  man  who 
had  hred  at  Martyn,  and  he  said  he  had  hit  him, 
so  he  thought. 

"  When  he  sprang  from  the  window  he  rose 
very  light  from  the  ground,"  he  said,  '*  and  I 
don't  think  the  fall  hurt  him  much." 

We  saw  Martyn  some  twenty  yards  or  more 
in  advance  of  us,  running  toward  the  south. 
It  was  of  double  importance  now  that  we  should 
overtake  him,  for  if  we  did  not  he  would  be 
beyond  our  lines,  and,  barring  some  improbable 
chance,  would  escape  to  Clinton  with  a  report 
of  Burgoyne's  condition. 

The  fugitive  curved  here  and  there  among 
the  shadows  but  could  not  shake  us  off.      I 


26  THE   SUX   OF   SARATOGA. 

held  my  loaded  pistol  in  my  hand  and  twice  or 
thrice  had  a  chance  for  a  fair  shot  at  him,  but  I 
never  raised  the  weapon.  I  could  shoot  at  a 
man  in  the  heat  of  battle  or  the  flurry  of  a  sud- 
den moment  of  excitement,  but  not  when  he 
was  like  a  tleeing  hare.  ^Moreover,  I  preferred 
to  take  him  alive. 

The  moon  was  coming  out,  driving  away  part 
of  the  darkness,  and  on  th.^  bushes  I  noticed 
some  spots  of  blood.  Then  the  fugitive  had 
been  hit,  and  1  was  glad  I  had  not  fired  upon 
him,  for  we  would  be  certain  to  take  him 
wounded. 

The  course  led  over  pretty  rough  ground. 
Whitestone  was  panting  at  my  elbow,  and  two 
of  the  men  lumbered  behind  us.  ^'he  fugitive 
began  to  waver,  and  presently  I  noticed  that  we 
were  gaining.  Suddenly  Alartyn  began  to  cast 
his  hands  as  if  he  were  throwing  something 
from  him,  and  we  saw  little  bits  of  white  paper 
fluttering  in  the  air.  I  divined  on  the  instant 
that,  seeing  his  certain  capture,  he  was  tearing 
up  traitorous  papers.  We  wanted  those  papers 
as  well  as  their  bearer.       ■, 

I  shouted  to  him  to  ^lalt  lest  I  lire.  He 
flung  a  Vvhole  handful  of  scraps  from  him.    Just 


A  LIGHT   IN   THE   WINDOW. 


27 


then  lie  came  to  a  stump;  he  stopped  abruptly, 
sat  down  upon  it  with  his  face  to  us,  and  draw- 
\n^^  a  pistol  from  his  pocket,  put  it  to  his  own 
head  and  fired. 

I  was  never  more  shocked  in  my  life,  the 
thing  was  so  sudden.  He  slid  off  the  stump  to 
the  ground,  and  when  we  reached  him  he  was 
(|iiite  dead.  We  found  no  letters  upon  him, 
a>  in  the  course  of  his  thght  he  had  succeeded  in 
destroying  them  all.  But  I  had  not  the  slight- 
est doubt  the  order  he  had  given  to  me  would 
soon  prove  to  be  a  forgery.  His  own  actions 
had  been  sufficient  evidence  of  that. 

I  directed  Whitestone  to  take  the  body  to 
some  safe  place  and  we  would  give  it  quiet 
burial  on  the  morrow\  I  did  not  wish  the 
women  to  know^  of  the  man's  terrible  fate, 
though  I  owed  them  scant  courtesy  for  the  way 
they  had  treated  me. 

Leaving  Whitestone  and  one  of  the  soldiers 
0  the  task,  I  went  back  to  the  house  alone. 

Mistress  Kate  and  her  mother  were  at  the 
door,  both  in  a  state  of  high  excitement. 

"  Did    he    escape? "    asked    Madame    Van 

r  liken. 
''  No,"  I  replied,  telling  the  truth  in  part 


28  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

and  a  lie  in  part.  "  Wc  captured  him,  and  the 
men  are  now  taking  him  back  to  the  army." 

She  sighed  deeply.  Mistress  Kate  said  noth- 
ing, though  her  face  was  of  a  great  paleness. 

"  I  will  not  upbraid  you  with  what  I  call 
treachery,"  I  said,  speaking  to  them  both,  "  and 
I  will  not  disturb  you  again  to-night.  It  is  not 
necessary." 

I  said  the  last  rather  grimly,  but  I  observed 
some  of  the  paleness  depart  from  ^listress 
Kate's  countenance  and  a  look  strangely  like 
that  of  relief  come  into  her  eyes.  I  was  sorry, 
for  it  seemed  to  me  to  indicate  more  thought 
of  her  own  and  her  mother's  peace  than  of  the 
fate  of  the  man  whom  we  had  taken.  But 
there  was  naught  to  say,  and  I  left  them  with- 
out the  courtesy  of  a  good  night  on  either  side. 

Whitestone  and  the  men  returned  presently 
from  their  task,  and  I  posted  the  guards  as  be- 
fore, confident  that  no  traitor  could  pass  while 
I  was  on  watch  there. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A    SHOT    FROM    THE    WINDOW. 

W'hitestone  and  I  held  a  small  conference 
in  the  dark.  Though  regretting  that  the  matter 
liad  ended  in  such  tragic  way,  we  believed  we  had 
(lone  a  great  thing,  and  I  am  not  loath  to  con- 
fess that  I  expected  words  of  approval  the  next 
(lay  when  we  would  take  the  news  of  it  to  the 
army.  We  agreed  that  we  must  not  relax  our 
vigilance  in  tlie  smallest  particular,  for  where 
there  was  one  plot  there  might  be  a  dozen. 
W'liitestone  went  down  into  the  valley  while  I 
remained  near  the  house. 

In  my  lonely  watch  I  had  great  space  for 

thought.     I  was  grieved  by  my  discoveries  in 

regard  to  Kate  Van  Auken.     Of  a  truth  she 

was  nothing  to  me,  being  betrothed,  moreover, 

to  Chudleigh  the  Englishman;  but  we  had  been 

children  together,  and  it  was  not  pleasing  to 

believe  her  a  patriot  and  find  her  a  traitor.     I 

29 


30 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


could  get  no  sort  of  satisfaction  out  of  such 
thoughts,  and  turning  them  aside  walked  about 
with  vigor  in  an  attempt  to  keep  myself  from 
becoming  very  sleepy. 

The  moon  was  still  showing  herself,  and  I 
could  see  the  house  very  well.  No  light  had 
appeared  in  it  since  our  last  withdrawal,  but 
looking  very  closely  I  saw  what  appeared  to  be 
a  dark  shadow  at  one  of  the  windows.  I  knew 
that  room  to  be  Mistress  Kate's,  and  I  sur- 
mised that  she  was  there  seeking  to  watch  us. 
I  resolved  in  return  that  I  would  watch  her. 
I  stepped  back  where  I  would  be  sheltered  by  a 
tree  from  her  sight,  and  presently  had  my  re- 
ward. The  window  was  opened  gently  and  a 
head,  which  could  be  none  other  than  that  of 
Kate,  was  thrust  out  a  bit. 

I  could  see  her  quite  well,  even  the  features 
of  her  face.  She  was  looking  very  earnestly  into 
the  surrounding  night,  and  of  a  truth  anxiety 
was  writ  plainly  on  her  countenance.  She 
stretched  her  head  out  farther  and  examined  all 
the  space  before  the  house.  I  was  hidden  from 
her  gaze,  but  down  in  a  corner  of  the  yard  she 
could  see  the  sentinel  pacing  back  and  forth. 
She  inspected  him  with  much  earnestness  for 


A  SHOT   FROM   THE   WINDOW, 


31 


some  time,  and  tliea  withdrew  her  head,  closing 
the  window. 

I  was  of  the  opinion  that  some  further  mis- 
cliief  was  afoot  or  intended,  but  the  nature  of 
it  passed  me.  It  seemed  that  what  had  hap- 
pened already  was  not  a  sufficient  warning  to 
tlicm.  I  began  to  walk  around  the  house  that 
I  might  keep  a  watch  upon  it  from  every  point. 
Sleepiness  no  longer  oppressed  me.  In  truth, 
I  forgot  all  about  it. 

I  passed  to  the  rear  of  the  building  and 
spoke  to  the  sentinel  stationed  in  the  yard  there. 
He  had  seen  notning  of  suspicious  nature  so 
far.  I  knew  he  was  a  faithful,  watchful  man, 
and  that  I  could  trust  him.  I  left  him  and 
pushed  my  way  between  two  large  flower  bushes 
growing  very  close  together.  Standing  there, 
I  beheld  the  opening  of  another  window  in  the 
house.  Again  the  head  of  Mistress  Kate  ap- 
peared, and  precisely  the  same  act  as  before  was 
repeated.  She  looked  about  with  the  intent- 
ness  and  anxiety  of  a  military  engineer  studying 
his  ground.  She  saw  the  sentinel  as  she  had 
seen  his  fellow  before  the  house,  and  her  eyes 
rested  long  upon  him.  Her  examination  fin- 
ished, she  withdrew,  closing  the  window. 


32  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

1  set  myself  to  deciphering  the  meaning  of 
this,  and  of  a  sudden  it  flashed  upon  me  with 
such  force  that  I  beheved  myself  stupid  not  to 
have  seen  it  before.  Kate  Van  x\uken  herself 
was  planning  to  go  through  our  lines  with  the 
news  of  Burgoyne's  plight.  She  was  a  bold 
girl,  not  much  afraid  of  the  dark  or  the  woods, 
and  the  venture  was  not  beyond  her.  The  con- 
viction of  the  truth  depressed  me.  I  felt  some 
regard  for  Kate  Van  Auken,  whom  I  as  a  little 
boy  had  liked  as  a  little  girl,  and  I  had  slight 
relish  for  this  task  of  keeping  watch  upon  her. 
Even  now  I  had  caught  her  planning  great  harm 
to  our  cause. 

I  confess  that  I  scarce  knew  what  to  do. 
Perhaps  it  was  my  duty,  if  the  matter  be  con- 
sidered in  its  utmost  strictness,  to  arrest  both 
the  women  at  once  as  dangerous  to  our  cause, 
and  send  them  to  the  army.  But  such  a  course 
was  quite  beyond  my  resolution.  I  could  not  do 
it.  Being  unable  to  decide  upon  anything  else, 
I  continued  my  watch,  determined  that  Mis- 
tress Kate  should  not  escape  from  the  house. 

The  moon  withdrew  herself  and  then  there 
was  an  increase  of  darkness.  Again  I  was 
thankful  that  I  had  been  vigilant,  for  I  saw  n 


A  SHOT   FROM   THE   WINDOW.  ^^ 

small  door  in  the  rear  of  the  house  open.  I 
could  not  doubt  that  it  opened  to  let  forth 
Catherine  Van  Auken  upon  her  traitorous 
errand.  I  made  my  resolution  upon  the  instant. 
If  she  came  out.  I  would  seize  her  and  compel 
her  to  return  to  the  house  in  all  quiet,  in  order 
that  Whitestone  and  the  others  might  not 
know. 

^ly  suspicions — my  fears,  in  truth  I  may  call 
them — were  justified,  for  in  a  few  moments  her 
well-known  figure  appeared  in  the  doorway  all 
clothed  about  in  a  great  dark  cloak  and  hood, 
like  one  preparing  for  a  long  night's  journey. 
I  retreated  a  httle,  for  it  was  my  purpose  to 
draw  her  on  and  then  catch  her,  when  no  doubt 
about  her  errand  could  arise. 

She  stood  in  the  doorway  for  perhaps  two 
minutes  repeating  her  actions  at  the  window; 
that  is,  she  looked  around  carefully  to  note  how 
we  were  watching.  I  could  not  see  her  face 
owing  to  the  increase  of  darkness  and  her  atti- 
tude, but  I  had  no  doubt  the  same  anxiety  and 
eagerness  were  writ  there. 

Presently  she  seemed  to  arrange  her  dark 
draperies  in  a  manner  more  satisfactory  and, 
stooping   somewhat,   came  out   of   the   house. 


34 


THE  SUN  OF  SARATOGA. 


The  sentinel  in  this  part  of  the  yard  was  doing 
his  duty  and  was  as  watchful  as  could  be,  but  he 
could  scarce  see  this  shadow  gliding  along  in  the 
larger  shadow  of  the  rose  bushes.  I  deemed  it 
good  fortune  that  I  was  there  to  see  and  pre- 
vent the  flight.  I  would  face  her  and  confound 
her  with  the  proof  of  her  guilt. 

She  came  on  quite  rapidly,  and  I  shrank  a 
Httle  farther  back  into  the  rose  bushes.  Her 
course  was  directly  toward  me,  and  suddenly  I 
rose  up  in  the  path.  I  expected  her  to  show 
great  surprise  and  to  cry  out  after  the  fashion  of 
women,  but  she  did  not.  In  truth  I  fancied  I 
saw  a  start,  but  that  was  all.  In  a  moment  she 
whirled  about  and  fled  back  toward  the  house 
with  as  little  noise  as  the  shadow  she  resembled. 
I  had  scarce  recovered  my  presence  of  mind 
when  she  was  halfway  to  the  house,  but  I  pur- 
sued in  the  effort  to  overtake  her  and  con- 
found her. 

I  observed  that  when  she  came  forth  she  had 
shut  the  door  behind  her,  but  as  she  fled  swiftly 
back  it  seemed  to  open  of  its  own  accord  for 
her  entrance.  She  passed  within,  disappearing 
like  a  ghost,  and  the  door  was  shut  with  a  snap 
almost  in  my  face.     I  put  my  hands  upon  it  and 


A  SHOT   FROM   THE   WINDOW. 


35 


found  it  was  very  real  and  substantial — perhaps 
a  stout  two  inches  in  thickness. 

I  deliberated  with  myself  for  a  moment  or 
two  and  concluded  to  do  nothing  further  in  the 
matter.  Perhaps  it  had  turned  out  as  well  as 
might  be,  for  I  had  stopped  her  errand,  and  her 
return,  doubtless,  had  released  me  from  unpleas- 
ant necessities. 

I  made  no  efYort  to  force  the  door  or  to 
enter  the  house  otherwise,  but  visited  the  sen- 
tinels, telling  them  to  be  of  good  caution, 
though  I  gave  them  no  hint  of  what  had  hap- 
pened. 

I  found  Whitestone  in  the  valley  sitting  on 
a  stump  and  sucking  at  his  pipe,  which  con- 
tained neither  fire  nor  tobacco.  He  told  me 
naught  unusual  had  happened  there.  I  took 
him  back  to  the  house  with  me,  and  together 
we  watched  about  it  until  the  coming  of  the 
day,  without  further  event  of  interest. 

Sunrise  found  my  men  and  me  very  tired 
and  sleepy,  as  we  had  a  right  to  be,  having  been 
on  guard  near  to  twenty-four  hours,  with  some 
very  exciting  things  occurring  in  that  long 
space.  I  aw^aited  the  relief  which  must  come 
soon,  for  we  were  not  iron  men. 


36  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

The  sun  had  scarce  swung  clear  of  the  earth 
when  a  door  of  the  house  was  opened  and  Mis- 
tress Kate  coming  out,  a  pail  in  hand,  walked 
lightly  toward  the  well.  I  approached  her,  and 
she  greeted  me  with  an  unconcern  that  amazed 
me. 

"  I  trust  that  you  enjoyed  your  night  watch, 
^vlaster  Shelbv?  "  she  said. 

"  As  well  as  was  likely  under  the  circum- 
stances," I  replied.  "  I  hope  that  you  slept 
soundly?  " 

'*  Nothing  disturbed  us  after  your  invasion 
of  our  house,"  she  said  with  line  calmness. 
"  Now,  will  you  help  me  draw  this  water?  Since 
the  approach  of  the  armies  there  is  no  one  left 
in  the  house  save  my  mother  and  myself,  and 
we  must  cook  and  do  for  ourselves." 

I  helped  draw  the  water,  and  even  carried 
the  filled  pail  to  the  house  for  her,  though  she 
dismissed  me  at  the  door.  But  she  atoned 
partly  for  her  scant  courtesy  by  bringing  us  a 
little  later  some  loaves  of  white  bread,  which 
she  said  she  had  baked  with  lier  own  hands, 
and  which  we  found  to  be  very  good. 

We  had  but  finished  breakfast  when  the  sol- 
diers who  were  to  relieve  us  came,  and  right  glad 


A  SHOT   FROM   THE  WINDOW. 


n 


were  we  to  see  them.  They  were  followed  a  few 
minutes  later  by  the  colonel  in  charge,  to  whom 
I  related  the  affair  of  Captain  Martyn,  and  to 
whom  I  showed  the  order  commanding  us  to 
withdraw.  He  instantly  pronounced  it  a  for- 
gery and  commended  us  for  staying. 

*'  It  was  a  traitorous  attempt  to  get  through 
our  line,"  he  said,  "  but  we  are  none  the  worse 
off,  for  it  has  failed." 

I  said  nothing  of  Kate  Vaf  Auken's  share 
in  the  conspiracy,  but  I  told  him  the  women 
in  the  house  inclined  strongly  to  the  Tory  side. 

"  I  will  see  that  the  house  is  watched  every 
moment  of  the  day  and  night,"  he  said. 

Then  I  felt  easy  in  mind  and  went  off  to 
sleep. 

W^hen  I  awoke  it  was  about  two  by  the  sun, 
and  the  afternoon  w^as  fine.  I  heard  that  fresh 
troops  had  arrived  from  the  ^lassachusetts  and 
New  Hampshire  provinces  in  the  morning,  and 
the  trap  was  closing  down  on  Burgoyne  tighter 
than  ever.  Everybody  said  another  great  battle 
was  coming,  and  coming  soon.  Even  then  I 
heard  the  pop-pop  of  distant  skirmishing  and 
saw  an  occasional  red  flash  on  the  horizon. 

I  w'as  eager  to  be  at  the  front,  but  such  duty 


38  T^TE  SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

was  not  for  me  then.  As  soon  as  I  had  eaten 
I  was  sent  back  with  Sergeant  Whitestone  and 
the  same  men  to  keep  watch  at  precisely  the 
same  point. 

"  Best  take  it  easy,"  said  the  sergeant  con- 
soHngly.  "  If  the  big  battle's  fought  w^hile  we're 
away  we  can't  get  killed  in  it." 

Then  he  lighted  the  inevitable  pipe,  smoked, 
and  was  content. 

I  questioned  very  closely  the  men  whom  we 
relieved  near  the  house,  and  they  said  there  had 
been  nothing  to  note.  The  elder  woman  had 
never  come  out  of  the  house,  but  the  younger 
had  been  seen  in  the  yard  several  times,  though 
she  had  naught  to  say,  and  seemed  to  be  con- 
cerned not  at  all  about  anything. 

I  thought  it  best  not  to  visit  the  house,  and 
took  my  station  with  Whitestone  in  the  valley, 
disposing  the  men  in  much  the  same  manner  as 
before.  Whitestone  puffed  at  his  pipe  with  the 
usual  regularity  and  precision,  but  some  of  his 
taciturnity  was  gone.  He  was  listening  to  the 
sounds  of  the  skirmishing  which  came  to  us 
fitfully. 

''  The  bees  are  stinging,"  said  he.  Then  he 
added,  with  a  fine  mixture  of  metaphors:   ''  The 


A  SHOT   FROM   THE   WINDOW. 


39 


mouse  is  trying  to  feel  his  way  out  of  the  trap. 
The  big  battle  can't  be  far  off,  for  Burgoyne 
must  know  that  every  day  lost  is  a  .chance 
lost." 

It  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  right,  and  I 
recrretted  more  than  ever  mv  assicrnment  to 
sentinel  duty.  I  do  not  pretend  to  uncommon 
courage,  but  every  soldier  will  bear  me  out  that 
such  waiting  as  we  were  doing  is  more  trying 
than  real  battle. 

Of  a  sudden  the  skirmishing  seemed  to  take 
on  an  increase  of  vigor  and  to  come  nearer. 
Flashes  appeared  at  various  points  on  the  hori- 
zon. Whitestone  became  deeply  interested. 
He  stood  at  his  full  height  on  a  stump,  and  I 
would  have  done  likewise  had  there  been  an- 
other stump.  Presently  he  leaped  down,  ex- 
claiming: 

"  I  fancy  there  is  work  for  us!  " 

I  saw  at  once  what  he  meant.  A  dozen  men 
were  coming  down  the  valley  at  full  speed.  The 
bright  sun  even  at  the  distance  brought  out 
the  scarlet  of  their  uniforms,  and  there  was  no 
mistaking  the  side  to  which  they  belonged. 
Evidently  a  party  of  Burgoyne's  skirmishers  had 
slipped  through  our  main  line  somehow  and 


40  THE   SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 

were  bent  upon  escape  soutliwanl,  with  all  its 
momentous  consequences. 

That  escape  we  would  prevent.  I  sent 
W'hitestone  in  a  run  to  the  two  men  near  the 
house  to  bid  them  take  refui^e  behind  it  and 
fight  from  its  shelter,  lie  was  back  in  a  breath, 
and  he  and  I  and  the  other  soldiers  prepared  to 
hold  the  passage  of  the  valley.  Most  fortunate 
for  us,  a  rail  fence  ran  across  this  valley,  and  we 
took  refuge  behind  it — a  wise  precaution,  I 
think,  since  the  approaching  party  outnumbered 
us. 

All  of  ours,  except  myself,  had  rifles,  and  I 
carried  two  good  pistols,  with  which  I  am  no 
bad  shot.  The  British  came  on  with  much 
speed.    Two  of  them  were  mounted. 

I  olanced  toward  the  house.  At  one  of  the 
windows  I  saw  a  figure.  I  trusted  if  it  was 
Kate  Van  Auken  that  she  would  withdraw 
speedily  from  such  an  exposed  place.  But  I 
had  no  time  to  note  her  presence  further,  for 
just  then  the  British  seemed  to  perceive  that 
we  barred  the  way,  for  they  stopped  as  if  hesitat- 
ing. I  suppose  they  saw  us,  as  we  were  shel- 
tered but  in  part  by  the  fence. 

Wishing  to  spare  bloodshed  I  shouted  to 


A   SHOT    FROM    THE   WINDOW.  41 

tlicni  to  surrender,  but  one  of  the  men  on  horse- 
back sliook  his  head,  said  something  to  the 
olliers,  and  tlicy  dashed  toward  us  at  all  s])eed. 
I  recognized  this  man  who  appeared  to  be  their 
leader.  He  was  Chudleigh,  the  Englishman, 
the  betrothed  of  Kate  Van  Auken,  and,  so  far 
as  1  knew,  an  honest,  presentable  fellow. 

W'hitestone  poised  his  rifle  on  the  top  rail 
of  the  fence  and  1  surmised  that  it  was  aimed 
at  Chudleigh.  Were  the  matter  not  so  desper- 
ate 1  could  have  wished  for  a  miss.  But  before 
AMiitestone  pulled  the  trigger  one  of  the  men 
from  the  shelter  of  the  house  fired,  and  Chud- 
leigh's  horse,  struck  by  the  ball  intended  for  his 
master,  went  down,  to'^sing  Chudleigh  some  dis- 
tance upon  the  ground,  where  he  lay  quite  still. 
W'hitestone  transferred  his  aim  and  knocked 
the  other  mounted  man  off  his  horse. 

The  remainder,  not  daunted  by  the  warmth 
of  our  greeting  and  the  loss  of  their  cavalry, 
raised  a  cheer  and  rushed  at  us,  firing  their 
pistols  and  muskets. 

I  do  not  scorn  a  skirmish.  It  mav,  and 
often  does,  contain  more  heat  to  the  scjuare 
yard  than  a  great  battle  with  twenty  thousand 
men  engaged.     These  men  bore  down  upon  us 


42 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


full  of  resolution.  Their  bullets  pattered  upon 
the  rails  of  the  fence,  chipping  off  splinters. 
Some  went  between  the  rails  and  whizzed  by 
us  in  fashion  most  uncomfortable.  One  man 
cried  out  a  bit  as  the  lead  took  him  in  the  fleshy 
part  of  the  leg,  but  he  did  not  shrink  from  the 
onset. 

Meanwhile  we  were  not  letting  the  time 
pass  without  profit,  but  fired  at  them  with  as 
much  rapidity  and  aim  as  we  could.  The  two 
men  at  the  corner  of  the  house  helped  us  much 
with  flne  sharpshooting. 

Our  fortification,  though  but  slender,  gave  us 
a  great  advantage,  and  nearly  a  third  of  their 
number  had  fallen  before  they  were  within  a 
dozen  feet  of  the  fence.  But  it  was  our  business 
not  only  to  defeat  them  but  to  keep  any  from 
passing  us.  I  was  hopeful  of  doing  this,  for  the 
sound  of  the  firing  had  reached  other  portions  of 
the  line,  and  I  saw  re-enforcements  for  us  com- 
ing on  the  run. 

Our  fire  had  been  so  hot  that  the  British 
when  within  a  dozen  feet  of  us  shrank  back. 
Of  a  sudden  one  of  them,  a  very  active  fellow, 
swerved  to  one  side,  darted  at  the  fence,  and 
leaping  it  with  a  single  bound  ran  lightly  along 


A   SHOT    I•'RO.^^    THE    WINDOW. 


43 


the  hillside.  I  called  to  W'hitestone  and  we  fol- 
lowed him  at  all  speed.  I  was  confident  that 
the  others  would  be  taken  by  our  rc-enforce- 
mcnts,  who  were  coniinj^  up  fast,  and  this  man 
who  had  passed  our  line  must  be  caught  at  all 
hazards. 

One  of  my  men  at  the  house  fired  at  the 
fiii^itive,  but  missed.  My  pistols  were  empty, 
:ind  so  was  W'hitestone's  rillc.  It  was  a  matter 
which  fleetness  would  decide  and  we  made  every 
effort. 

The  fugitive  curved  toward  a  wood  back  of 
the  hotise,  and  we  followed.  I  lieard  a  ritle  shot 
from  a  new  direction,  and  W'hitestone  stag- 
gered; but  in  a  moment  he  recovered  him- 
self, saying  it  was  only  a  tlesh  wound.  I  was 
amazed,  not  at  the  shot  but  at  the  point  from 
which  it  came.  I  looked  up,  and  it  was  no 
mistake  of  hearing,  for  there  was  the  white  puff 
of  smoke  rising  from  an  upper  window  in  the 
house.  It  was  but  the  glance  of  a  moment,  as 
the  fuofitive  then  claimed  mv  attention.  His 
speed  was  slackening  and  he  seemed  to  be  grow- 
ing very  tired. 

A  little  blood  appeared  on  W'hitestone's  arm 
near  the  shoulder,  but  he  gave  no  other  sigil 


44 


THK    SU\    OK    SARATOCA. 


that  the  wound  affected  him.  Onr  man  in- 
creased his  speed  a  bit,  ])Ut  the  effort  exhausted 
him;  he  stopped  of  a  sudden,  dropped  to  tlie 
earth,  and  lay  there  ])antini4-,  strength  and 
l^reath  quite  gone. 

We  ran  up  to  him  and  demanded  his  sur- 
render, lie  was  too  much  exhaii>ted  to  speak, 
l)Ut  he  nodded  as  if  he  were  glad  the  thing  was 
over.  W'e  let  him  rest  until  his  breath  came 
back.  Then  he  climbed  to  his  feet,  and,  looking- 
at  us,  said  in  the  fashion  of  one  defending  him- 
self: 

'*  I  did  the  best  I  could;  you  can't  say  I 
didn't." 

"  I  guess  you  did."  T  replied.  "  You  went 
farther  than  any  of  your  comrades." 

He  was  a  most  likely  young  fellow,  not  more 
than  twenty.  I  should  say.  and  I  was  very  glad 
he  had  come  out  of  the  affair  unhurt.  We  took 
him  back  to  the  valley,  where  the  conflict  was 
over.  Our  re-enforcements  had  come  up  so  fast 
that  the  remainder  of  the  British  surrendered 
after  a  few  shots.  All  the  prisoners  were  de 
livered  to  one  of  our  captains  who  had  arrived, 
and  he  took  them  away.  Then  I  turned  my 
attention  to  Whitestone.     Having  some  small 


A   SHOT    FROM    THE    WINDOW. 


45 


knowledge  of  surgery,  I  asked  him  to  let  nie  see 
liis  arm      lie  held  it  out  without  a  word. 

I  pushed  up  his  sleeve  and  founJ  that  the 
bullet  had  cut  only  a  little  below  the  skin.  I 
bound  up  the  scratch  with  a  piece  of  old  white 
cloth,  and  said: 

"  Vou  needn't  bother  about  that.  White- 
stone;  the  bullet  that  cut  it  wasn't  very  well 
aimed." 

*'  It  was  aimed  pretty  well,  I  think,  for  a 
woman,"  he  said. 

"  Vou  won't  say  any  more  about  that,  Wlilte- 
stone,  will  you?  "  1  asked  quietly. 

"  Not  to  any1)ody  unless  to  you,"  he  re- 
plied. 

There  was  a  faint  smile  on  his  face  that  I 
(lid  not  altogether  like;  but  he  thrust  his  hand 
into  the  inside  pocket  of  his  waistcoat,  took 
out  his  pipe,  lighted  the  tobacco  with  great 
deliberation,  and  began  to  smoke  as  if  nothing 
had  happened. 

The  prisoners  taken  away  and  other  signs  of 
:ontlict  removed,  we  were  left  to  our  old  duty, 
and  hill  and  hollow  resumed  their  quiet.  I  was 
much  troubled,  but  at  last  I  made  up  my  mind 
what   to  do.      Asking  W'hitestone  to   keep  a 


46  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

good  watch,  I  went  to  the  house  and  knocked 
with  much  loudness  at  the  front  door.  Kate 
opened  the  door,  self-possessed  and  digniiied. 

*'  ]\Iiss  \^an  Auken,"  I  said  with  all  my  dig- 
nity, *'  I  congratulate  you  upon  your  progress 
in  the  useful  art  of  sharpshooting.  You  have 
wounded  Sergeant  W'hitestone,  a  most  excel- 
lent man.  and  perhaps  it  was  chance  only  that 
saved  him  from  death." 

*'  Wdiy  should  you  blame  me?  "  she  said.  "  I 
washed  the  man  you  were  pursuing  to  escape, 
and  there  was  no  other  way  to  help  him.  This 
is  war,  vou  know." 

I  had  scarce  expected  so  frank  an  admission. 

"  I  will  have  to  search  the  house  for  your 
weapon,"  I  said.  "  How  do  I  know  that  yon 
will  not  shoot  at  me  as  I  go  away?  " 

*'  Do  not  trouble  yourself,"  she  said  easily. 
•*  I  will  bring  it  to  you." 

She  ran  up  the  stairway  and  returned  in  a 
moment  with  a  large,  unloaded  pistol,  which 
she  held  out  to  me. 

"  I  might  ha\  e  tried  to  use  it  again,"  slie 
said  w^ith  a  little  laugh,  "  but  I  confess  I  did 
not  know  how  to  reload  it." 

She  handed  me  the  pistol  with  a  gesture 


A   SHOT   FROM   THE   WINDOW. 


47 


of  repulsion  as  if  she  were  glad  to  get  rid  of 
it.  Her  frankness  changed  my  purpose  some- 
what, and  I  asked  her  how  her  mother  fared. 

*'  Very  well,  but  in  most  dreadful  alarm  be- 
cause of  the  fighting,"  she  replied. 

"  It  would  be  best  for  both  of  you,  for  your 
own  safety,  to  remain  in  the  house  and  keep 
the  windows  closed,"  I  said. 

"  So  I  think,"  she  replied. 

I  turned  away,  for  I  wished  to  think  further 
what  disposition  to  make  of  Kate  \^an  Auken 
and  her  mother.  It  seemed  that  they  should 
icniain  no  longer  at  such  a  critical  point  of  our 
line,  where  in  an.  unwatched  moment  they 
might  do  us  a  great  evil.  ^^lorcover.  I  was  much 
intlamed  against  Kate  l^ecause  of  the  treacher- 
ous shot  which  had  come  so  near  to  ending 
Wliitestone's  career.  But  even  then  I  sought 
for  some  mitigating  circumstance,  some  excuse 
for  her.  Perhaps  her  family  had  so  long  worked 
upon  her  that  her  own  natural  and  patriotic 
feelings  had  become  perverted  to  such  an  extent 
that  she  looked  upon  the  shot  as  a  righteous 
deed.     Cases  like  it  were  not  new. 

I  thought  it  best  to  take  Whitestone  into 
inv  confidence. 


48  IHE   SUN   OF  SARAT0(;A. 

"  U'e  can  not  do  anything  to-day,*'  he  said, 
"for  none  of  us  can  leave  here;  but  it  would 
be  well  to  keep  a  good  watch  upon  that  house 
again  to-night." 

This  advice  seemed  good,  for  like  as  not 
Kate  Van  Auken,  not  at  all  daunted  by  her 
failure,  would  make  another  attempt  to  escape 
southward. 

Therefore  with  much  interest  I  waited  the 
coming  of  our  second  night  there,  which  was 
but  a  brief  time  away. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OUT    OF    THE    HOUSE. 

The  night  came  on  and  I  was  uneasy.  Many 
ihinos  disturl)ed  mc.  The  liouse  was  a  sore 
spot  in  my  mind,  and  with  the  (hisk  the  signs  of 
battle  seemed  to  increase.  Upon  this  dark 
background  the  tkishes  h*om  the  skirmishing- 
grew  in  size  and  intensity.  From  under  the 
horizon's  rim  came  the  deep  murmur  of  the 
artiherv.  1  knew  that  Burfjovne  was  feehng" 
his  way.  and  more  than  ever  it  was  impressed 
upon  me  that  eitlier  he  would  break  out  soon 
or  we  would  close  in  upon  him  and  crush  him. 
The  faint  pop-pop  of  the  distant  rifles  was  like 
the  crackling  that  precedes  the  conflagration. 

To  the  south  there  was  peace,  apparent 
peace,  but  I  knew  Burgoyne  must  turn  his  face 
hopefully  many  a  time  that  way,  for  if  rescue 
came  at  all  it  must  come  thence. 

*'  Another  day  nearer  the  shutting  of  the 

49 


io. 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


trap,"  said  W'hitestone,  walking  up  and  down 
with  his  arm  in  a  sHni^;.  I  found  that  he  could 
manage  his  pipe  as  well  with  one  hand  as  with 
two. 

The  night  was  darker  than  usual,  for  which 
I  was  sorry,  as  it  was  against  us  and  in  favor  of 
the  others.  Again  asking  W'hitestone  to  stand 
sponsor  for  the  hollow,  I  approached  the  house. 
I  had  rei)eated  my  precaution:i'  of  the  day  be- 
fore, ])lacing  one  sentinel  in  front  of  it  and  an- 
other behind  it.  But  in  the  darkness  two  men 
could  be  passed,  and  I  would  watch  with  them. 

From  the  hill  top  the  Hashes  of  the  skirmish- 
ing seemed  to  multiply,  and  for  a  few  moments 
1  forgot  the  house  that  I  might  watch  them. 
Even  I,  who  had  no  part  in  the  councils  of  my 
generals  and  elders,  knew  how  much  all  this 
meant  to  us,  and  the  intense  anxiety  with  which 
every  patriot  heart  awaited  the  result.  ^lore 
than  ever  1  regretted  my  present  duty. 

The  house  was  dark,  but  I  felt  sure  in  my 
heart  that  Kate  would  make  another  attempt 
to  escape  us.     Why  should  she  wait? 

I  thought  it  my  best  i)lan  to  walk  in  an  end- 
less circle  around  the  house;  it  would  keep  sleep 
away  and  give  me  the  greater  chance   to  see 


OUT   OF   THE   HOUSE. 


51 


anything'  that  mi<;]it  happen.  It  was  but  dull 
and  tiresome  work  at  the  best.  Around  and 
around  1  walked,  stopping  once  in  a  while  to 
speak  to  my  sentinels.  Time  was  so  slow  that 
it  seemed  to  me  the  night  ought  to  have  passed, 
wlien  the  size  of  the  moon  showed  that  it  was 
not  twelve. 

I  expected  Kate  to  look  from  the  windows 
again  and  spy  out  the  ground  before  making 
the  venture;  so  I  kept  faithful  watch  upon 
them,  but  found  no  reward  for  such  \igilance 
and  attention.  Her  face  did  not  appear;  no 
light  sparkled  from  the  house.  Perhaps  after 
her  failures  her  courage  had  sunk.  Certainly 
the  time  for  her  venture,  if  venture  she  would 
make,  was  passing. 

As  I  continued  my  perpetual  circle  I  ap- 
])roached  the  l)eat  of  the  sentinel  who  was 
stationed  ])ehind  the  house.  I  saw  him  sooner 
than  I  expected;  he  had  come  farther  toward 
the  side  of  the  house  than  his  orders  permitted 
him  to  do,  and  I  was  preparing  to  rel^uke  him 
when  I  noticed  of  a  sudden  that  he  seemed  to 
he  without  his  rille.  The  next  moment  his 
ligure  disappeared  from  me  like  the  shadow  of 
something  that  had  never  been. 


52  THE    SIN    OF    SARATOGA. 

Twenty  yards  away  1  saw  the  sentinel,  up- 
right, stiff,  riiie  on  shoulder,  no  thought  but  of 
his  duty.  1  knew  the  first  figure  was  that  of 
Kate  Van  Auken.  and  not  of  the  sentinel.  How 
she  had  escaped  from  the  house  unseen  I  did 
not  know  and  it  was  no  time  to  stop  for  inquiry. 
1  stepped  among  the  trees,  marking  as  closely 
as  i  could  that  particular  blotch  of  blackness 
into  which  she  had  disappeared,  and  I  had  re- 
ward, for  again  I  saw  her  figure,  more  like 
shadow  than  substance. 

I  might  have  shouted  to  the  sentinels  and 
raised  hue  and  cry,  Init  I  had  reasons — very 
good,  it  seemed  to  me — for  not  doing  so.  More- 
over, I  needed  no  assistance.  Surely  I  could 
hold  myself  sufficient  to  capture  one  girl.  She 
knew  the  grounds  well,  but  I  also  knew^  them. 
I  had  played  over  them  often  enough. 

The  belt  of  woods  besran  about  fiftv  vards 
l)ack  of  the  house,  and  was  perhaps  the  same 
number  of  yards  in  breadth.  But  the  trees 
seemed  not  to  hinder  her  speed.  She  curved 
lightly  among  them  with  the  readiness  of  per- 
fect acquaintance,  and  I  was  sure  that  the  ela- 
tion coming  from  what  she  believed  to  be  es- 
cape was  quickening  her  flight. 


OUT   OF   THE    HOUSE. 


53 


She  passed  through  tlie  trees  and  into  the 
stretch  of  open  ground  beyond.  Then  for  the 
first  time  she  looked  back  and  saw  me.  At 
least  I  behe\e  she  saw  me,  for  she  seemed  to 
.start,  and  her  cloak  tUittered  as  she  began  to  run 
with  great  speed. 

A  hundred  yards  farther  was  a  rail  fence, 
and  beyond  that  a  stretch  of  corn  land.  With 
half  a  leap  and  half  a  climb.  \ery  remarkable  in 
woman,  who  is  usually  not  ex|)ert  in  such  mat- 
ters, she  scaled  this  fence  in  a  breath  and  was 
among"  the  cornstalks.  1  feared  that  she  might 
elude  me  there,  but  1,  too.  was  over  the  fence 
in  a  trice  and  kept  her  figure  in  view.  She  had 
shown  much  more  endurance  than  I  expected, 
tliough  I  knew  she  was  a  strong  girl.  But  we 
had  come  a  oood  half  mile,  and  few  women  can 
run  at  speed  so  far. 

She  led  me  a  chase  through  the  cornfield 
and  then  over  another  fence  into  a  pasture.  I 
noted  with  pleasure  that  I  was  gaining  all  the 
time.  In  truth,  1  had  enjoyed  so  much  exer- 
cise of  this  kind  in  the  last  day  that  I  ought  to 
have  been  in  a  fair  way  of  becoming  an  expert. 

Our  course  lengthened  to  a  mile  and  I  was 
within  fifteen  yards  of  her.      Despite  my  gen- 


54 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


eral  disrelish  for  the  position  1  felt  a  certain 
grim  joy  in  being  the  man  to  stop  her  plans, 
inasmuch  as  she  had  deceived  me  more  perhaps 
than  any  one  else. 

It  was  evident  that  1  could  overtake  her, 
and  1  hailed  her,  demanding  that  she  stop.  For 
reply  she  whirled  about  and  tired  a  pistol  at  me, 
and  then,  seeing  that  she  had  missed,  made  an 
effort  to  run  faster. 

I  was  astounded.  1  confess  it  even  after  all 
that  had  happened — but  she  had  lired  at  W'hite- 
stone  before;  now  she  was  ln*ing  at  me.  I 
would  stop  this  fierce  woman,  not  alone  for  the 
good  of  our  cause,  but  for  the  revenge  her  dis- 
appointment would  be  to  me.  The  feeling  gave 
me  strength,  and  in  five  minutes  more  1  could 
almost  reach  out  my  hands  and  touch  her. 

"  Stop!  "  1  shouted  in  anger. 

She  whirled  about  again  and  struck  at  me, 
full  strength,  with  the  butt  of  her  pistol.  I  might 
have  suffered  a  severe,  perhaps  a  stunning,  blow, 
but  by  instinct  1  threw  up  my  right  hand,  and 
her  wrist  gliding  off  it  the  pistol  struck  noth- 
ing, dashing  with  its  own  force  from  her  hand. 
I  warded  off  another  swift  blow  aimed  with  the 
left  fist,  and  then  saw  that  I  stood  face  to  face 


OUT   OF   THE    HOUSE. 


55 


not  with  Kate  \'an  Aiiken  but  with  her  brother 
Albert. 

There  was  a  look  upon  his  face  of  minified 
shame  and  determination.  How  could  he 
escape  shame  with  his  sister's  skirts  around  him 
and  her  hood  upon  his  head? 

Mv  own  feelings  were  somewhat  mixed  in 
character.  First,  there  was  a  sensation  of  great 
relief,  so  (}uick  I  had  not  time  to  make  analysis, 
and  then  there  came  over  me  a  strong  desire 
to  lau"h.  I  submit  that  the  si^ht  of  a  man 
caught  in  woman's  dress  and  ashamed  of  it  is 
fair  cause  for  mirth. 

It  was  dark,  but  not  too  dark  for  me  to  see 
his  face  redden  at  my  look. 

"  You'll  have  to  light  it  out  with  me,"  he 
said,  very  stiff  and  haughty. 

'•  I  purpose  to  do  it,"  I  said,  '*  but  perhaps 
your  clothes  may  be  in  your  way." 

He  snatclied  the  hood  off  his  head  and 
hurled  it  into  the  bushes;  then  with  another 
angry  pull  he  ripped  the  skirt  off,  and,  casting 
it  to  one  side  stood  forth  in  proper  man's  attire, 
thoui^h  that  of  a  citizen  and  not  of  the  British 
soldier  that  he  was. 

He  confronted  me,  very  angry.     I  did  not 


56  THE    SUN    OF   SAKATOflA. 

think  of  nuich  at  tlial  moment  save  how  won- 
derfully his  face  was  like  his  sister  Kate's.  1 
had  never  taken  such  thorouLi'h  note  of  it  he- 
fore,  thouL:;h  often  the  opportunity  was  mine. 

Our  i)ause  had  i^^iven  him  breath,  and  he 
stood  awaiting-  my  attack  like  one  who  fights 
with  his  fists  in  the  ring.  My  loaded  pistol  was 
in  my  belt,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  think  that  F 
would  use  it;  nor  did  I  think  of  it  myself.  His. 
imloaded,  lay  on  the  ground.  I  advanced  upon 
him,  and  with  his  right  fist  he  struck  verv  swiftlv 
at  my  face.  1  thrust  my  head  to  one  side  and  the 
blow  glanced  off  the  hard  part  of  it,  leaving  his 
own  face  unj^rotected.  1  could  have  dealt 
him  a  heavy  return  blow  that  would  have  made 
his  face  look  less  like  his  sister  Kate's,  but  T 
preferred  to  close  with  liim  and  seize  him  in  my 
grasp. 

Though  lighter  than  I  he  was  agile,  and 
sought  to  trip  me,  or  l)y  some  dexterous  turn 
otherwise  to  o:ain  advantao^e  of  me.  But  I  was 
wary,  knowing  full  well  that  I  ought  to  be  so, 
and  p.'esently  I  brought  him  down  in  a  heap, 
falling  upon  him  with  such  force  that  he  lay 
a  few  moments  as  if  stunned,  though  it  was 
but  the  breath  knocked  out  of  him. 


OUT   OK   THE    HOUSE. 


57 


"  Do  you  i^nve  up?  "  1  asked,  when  he  lual 
returned  to  speakin*^-  condition. 

*'  Yes,"  he  repHed.  "  You  were  always  too 
strong  for  me,  Dick." 

Which  was  true,  for  there  never  was  a  time, 
even  when  we  were  little  boys,  when  1  could  not 
throw  him,  though  I  do  not  say  it  as  a  boast, 
since  there  were  others  who  could  throw  me. 

'*  Do  you  make  complete  and  unconditional 
surrender  to  me  as  the  sole  ])resent  representa- 
tive of  the  American  army,  and  promise  to  make 
no  further  effort  to  escape?  "  asked  1,  some- 
what amazed  at  the  length  of  my  own  words, 
and  a  little  proud  of  them  too. 

*'  Yes,  Dick,  confound  it!  Get  off  my  chest! 
How  do  you  expect  me  to  breathe?  "  he  re- 
plied with  a  somewhat  unreasonable  show  of 
temper. 

I  dismounted  and  he  sat  up.  thumping  his 
chest  and  drawincf  very  Ions:  breaths  as  if  he 
wished  to  be  sure  that  everything  was  right  in- 
side. When  he  had  finished  his  examination, 
which  seemed  to  be  satisfactory,  he  said: 

"  I'm  your  prisoner,  Dick.  What  do  you 
intend  to  do  with  me?  " 

*'  Blessed  if  I  know,"  I  replied. 


58  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

In  truth,  I  did  not.  lie  was  in  citizens' 
clothes,  and  he  had  been  hn*king  inside  our  Hues 
for  at  least  a  day  or  so.  If  I  gave  hini  up  to  • 
our  army,  as  my  duty  bade  me  to  do,  he  might 
be  shot,  which  would  be  unpleasant  to  me  as 
well  as  to  him  for  various  reasons.  If  I  let  him 
go  he  might  ruin  us. 

'*  Suppose  you  think  it  over  while  I  rest," 
he  said.  "  A  man  can't  run  a  mile  and  then 
light  a  big  fellow  like  you  without  getting  pretty 
tired." 

In  a  few  minutes  I  made  up  my  mind.  It 
was  not  a  way  out  of  the  matter,  but  it  was 
the  only  thing  I  could  think  of  for  the  present. 

*'  Get  up,  Albert,"  I  said. 

He  rose  obediently. 

"  You  came  out  of  that  house  unseen,"  I 
resumed,  "  and  I  want  you  to  go  back  into  it 
unseen.  Do  exactly  as  I  say.  I'm  thinking  of 
you  as  well  as  of  myself." 

He  seemed  to  appreciate  the  consideration 
and  followed  close  behind  me  as  I  took  my  way 
toward  the  house.  I  had  uq  fear  that  he  w^ould 
attempt  escape.  A11)ert  was  always  a  fellow  of 
honor,  though  I  could  never  account  for  the 
perversion  of  his  political  opinions. 


OUT   OF   THE   HOUSE. 


59 


He  walked  back  slowly.  I  kept  as  good  a 
lookout  as  1  could  in  the  darkness.  It  was  bare- 
ly possible  that  I  would  meet  W'hitestone  prowl- 
ing about,  and  that  was  not  what  1  wanted. 

"  Albert,"  1  asked.  "  why  did  you  shoot  at 
W'hitestone  from  the  house?  I  can  forgive  your 
shooting  at  me,  for  that  was  in  fair  and  open 
strife." 

"  Dick."  he  said  so  earnestly  that  I  could 
not  but  believe  him.  "  to  tell  you  the  truth.  I 
feel  some  remorse  about  the  shot,  but  the  man 
vou  were  pursuini^  was  Trevannion  of  ours,  mv 
messmate,  and  such  a  line  fellow  that  I  knew 
only  one  other  whom  I'd  rather  see  cfCt  through 
with  the  news  of  our  plight,  and  that's  myself. 
I  couldn't  resist  trying  to  help  him.  Suppose 
we  say  no  more  about  it;  let  it  pass." 

"  It's  W'hitestone's  affair,  not  mine,"  I  said. 
I  was  not  making  any  plans  to  tell  Whitestone 
about  it. 

\\'hen  we  came  to  the  edu;e  of  the  wood  be- 
hind  the  house  I  told  him  to  stop.  Going  for- 
ward, I  sent  the  sentinel  to  the  other  side  of  the 
building,  telling  him  to  watch  there  with  his 
comrade  for  a  little,  while  I  took  his  place.    As 

soon  as  his  figure  disappeared  behind  the  cor- 
5 


6o  THE    SUN    OF   SARATOCiA. 

ner  of  tlie  house  Al])ert  came  forward  and  we 
hurried  to  the  side  door.  W'e  knocked  Hghtly 
upon  it  and  it  was  promptly  opened  by  liis 
sister.  1  could  guess  the  anxiety  and  dread 
with  which  she  was  waiting-  lest  she  should  hear 
sounds  which  would  tell  of  an  interrupted  Highl. 
and  the  distress  with  which  she  would  see  us 
ai>ain.  Xor  was  1  deceived.  When  she  beheld 
us  standing  there  in  the  dark,  her  lips  moved 
as  if  she  could  scarce  rei)ress  the  cry  that  rose. 

I  spoke  tirst. 

'*  Take  him  back  in  the  house,"  I  said,  "  and 
keep  him  there  until  you  liear  from  me.  Hurry 
up,  Albert!  "' 

Albert  stepped  in. 

'•  And  don't  forget  this,"  I  continued,  for  T 
could  not  wholly  forgive  him,  "  if  you  shoot  at 
me  c^r  Whitestone  or  anybody  else,  I'll  see  you 
hanged  as  a  spy,  if  I  have  to  do  it  myself." 

They  quickly  closed  the  door,  and  recalling 
the  sentinel,  I  went  in  search  of  A\'hitestone. 

I  had  some  notion  of  confiding  in  W'hite- 
stone.  but.  after  thought,  I  concluded  1  had  best 
not,  at  least  not  fully. 

I  foimd  him  walking  up  and  down  in  the 
valley. 


OUT   OF    THE    HOUSE.  C)l 

"  W'hiteslone,"  I  said,  "  do  mc  a  favor?  If 
anybody  asks  you  how  you  ^-Qt  that  scratcli 
(•n  your  arm.  tell  him  it  was  in  the  skirmish, 
and  you  don't  know  who  hred  the  shot." 

Jle  C(jnsidered  a  moment. 

**  I'll  do  it,"  he  said,  "  if  you'll  aj^ree  to  do 
as  much  for  me,  fii-st  chance." 

[  promised,  and.  that  matter  off  my  mind, 
tried  to  think  of  a  plan  to  get  Albert  out  of  the 
house  and  back  to  his  own  army  unseen  by  anv 
of  ours.    Thinking  thus,  the  night  passed  away. 


CHAPTER  V. 

MY    SUrERIOR    OFFICER. 

The  relief  came  early  in  the  morning",  bring- 
ing with  it  the  news  that  onr  army,  which  was 
stronger  every  day  than  on  the  yesterday,  had 
moved  still  closer  to  Bnrgoyne.  ]\ly  blood 
thrilled  as  ever  at  this,  but  1  had  chosen  a  new 
course  of  action  for  myself.  It  would  be  an 
evil  turn  for  me  if  Albert  \^an  Auken  were 
taken  at  the  house  and  should  run  the  risk  of 
execution  as  a  spy;  it  might  be  said  that  I  wa.-^ 
the  chief  cause  of  it. 

I  was  very  tired,  and  stretching  myself  on 
the  turf  beneath  the  shade  of  a  tree  in  the  valley, 
I  fell  intcj  a  sound  sleep  in  two  minutes.  When 
T  awoke  at  the  usual  time  I  found  that  the 
guard  had  been  re-enforced,  and,  what  was 
worse,  instead  of  being  first  in  command  I  was 
now  only  second.  Idiis  in  itself  was  disagrce- 
al)le,  but  the  character  of  the  man  who  had  sup- 
planted me  was  a  further  annoyance.     I  knew 

62 


TV   SUPERIOR   OFFICER.  63 

Lieutenant  Belt  quite  well,  a  Xcw  Englandcr 
uuich  attached  to  our  cause,  but  of  a  prying 
disposition  and  most  sus])icious.  The  rc-cn- 
forcements  liad  been  sent  1)ecause  of  the  prcxi- 
ous  attempt  to  ])reak  through  the  Hue  at  this 
point,  the  lay  of  the  ground  Ijeing  such  that  it 
was  more  favorable  for  jjlans  of  escape  than 
elsewhere. 

"  You  need  not  stay  unless  you  wish,"  said 

r>elt.     "  Xo  positive  instructions  were  given  on 

that  point.     As  for  myself,  I  confess   I  would 

rather  be  with  the  army,  since  much  is  likely  to 

'  liappen  there  soon.'' 

"  I  think  things  will  drag  for  some  time 
yet,"  I  said  with  as  careless  an  air  as  I  could 
assume.  *'  and  I  suspect  that  they  have  been 
more  active  here  than  they  are  with  the  army. 
Another  attem]:)t  to  break  through  our  line  may 
he  made  at  this  point,  and  I  believe  I'd  rather 
remain  for  a  day  or  two." 

But  just  then,  as  if  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
I'clying  my  words  a])out  dullness  at  the  front, 
there  was  a  sharp  crackle  of  distant  skirmishing 
and  the  red  Hare  of  a  cannon  appeared  on  the 
liorizon.  It  called  the  attention  of  both  of  us 
for  a  moment  or  two. 


64  THE    SUN    OF    SARATOGA. 

"  I'he  bullets  appear  to  be  tlyino-  over  there, 
l)Ut  if  }ou  prefer  to  remain  here,  of  course  you 
can  have  your  wish,"  said  Belt  with  sarcasm. 

I  did  not  answer,  as  no  good  excuse  hap- 
pened to  my  mind,  and  we  went  up  the  hillside 
together.  1  looked  about  carefully  to  see  what 
arrangements  he  had  made,  but  it  was  merely 
a  doublin"-  of  the  "uard.  Otherwise  he  had 
followed  my  (lis])ositions.  Belt  looked  at  the 
house. 

*'  I  hear  that  some  people  are  there.  Who 
are  they?  "  he  asked. 

'*  Only  two,"  I  replied,  "  women  both — Ma- 
dame \'an  Auken  and  her  daughter." 

"  Vov  us,  or  against  us?  "  he  asked. 

'*  Against  us,"  I  replied.  '*  The  son  and 
brother  is  in  the  English  armv  with  Burg-ovne. 
over  there;  moreover,  the  daughter  is  betrothed 
to  an  Englishman  who  has  just  been  taken 
prisoner  by  us." 

1  thought  it  best  to  make  no  disguise  of 
these  matters. 

"  That  looks  suspicious,"  he  said,  his  hawk 
face  brightening  at  the  thought  of  hidden  thing- 
to  be  found. 

"  They  might  do  us  harm  if  they  could,"  I 


MV   SUPERIOR   OFFICER.  65 

said,  "  but  they  liave  not  the  power.  Our  lines 
surround  the  house;  no  one  save  ourselves  can 
go  to  them,  nor  can  they  go  to  any  one." 

"Still, I  would  like  to  go  through  the  house," 
he  said,  some  doubt  yet  showing  in  his  tone. 

"  I  have  searched  it  twice  and  found  noth- 
ing," 1  said  indifferently. 

He  let  the  matter  drop  for  the  time  and 
busied  himself  with  an  examination  of  the 
ground:  l:»ut  I  knew  he  was  most  likely  to  take 
ing  it  up  again,  for  he  could  not  suppress  his  pry- 
ing nature.  1  would  have  been  glad  to  give 
warning  to  Kate,  but  I  could  think  of  no  way 
to  do  it. 

"  Who  is  the  best  man  that  you  have  here?  " 
he  asked  presently. 

"  W'hitestone — Sergeant  Whitestone,"  1  re- 
plied, glad  to  place  the  sergeant  in  his  confi- 
dence, for  it  might  turn  out  to  my  advantage. 
"  There  is  none  more  vigilant,  and  vou  can  de- 
pcnd  upon  all  that  he  says." 

We  separated  there,  our  work  taking  us  in 
different  directions.  When  we  returned  to  the 
\  alley,  which  we  had  made  a  kind  of  headquar- 
ters, 1  heard  him  asking  Whitestone  about  the 
\'an  Aukens. 


66  THE   SUN   OF    SARATOGA. 

'*  Tartars,  both  of  *eni,"  said  the  good  ser- 
geant; "if  yon  go  in  tlicre,  Icftenant,  they'll  scold 
yon  till  they  take  yonr  face  off." 

The  look  on  Belt's  face  was  proof  that  not 
even  W'hitestone's  warning  wonld  deter  him. 
At  least  it  so  seemed  to  me.  In  a  half  honr 
I  fonnd  that  I  had  jndged  aright.  He  told  me 
he  was  not  in  a  state  of  satisfaction  al)ont  the 
honse,  and  since  the  responsibility  for  it  lay 
with  him  he  proposed  to  make  a  search  of  it 
in  person.     He  requested  me  to  go  with  him. 

"  This  seems  to  be  the  main  entrance."  he 
said,  leading  the  way  to  the  portico,  which  faced 
the  north,  and  looking  about  with  very  incjuir- 
ing  eyes.  "  Madame  \^an  Auken  and  her 
daughter  must  be  much  frightened  by  the  pres- 
ence of  troops,  for  I  have  not  yet  seen  the  face 
of  either  at  door  or  window." 

He  knocked  loudly  at  the  door  with  the  hilt 
of  his  sword,  and  Kate  appeared,  very  calm  as 
usual.  I  made  the  introductions  as  politely  as  I 
was  able. 

"  Lieutenant  Belt  is  my  senior,  Miss  \'an 
Auken,"  I  said,  *'  and  therefore  has  superseded 
me  in  command  of  the  guard  at  this  point." 

'*  Then  I  trust  that  Lieutenant  Belt  will  re- 


MY   SUPERIOR   officer;  67 

lax  some  of  the  rii^-ors  of  the  watch,"  she  said, 
"  and  not  sul)jcct  us  to  the  s^reat  discomfort  of 
repeated  searches  of  our  lioiise." 

She  turned  her  shoulder  to  me  as  if  she 
would  treat  me  with  the  greatest  coldness.  I 
understood  her  procedure,  and  marveled  nuich 
at  her  presence  of  mind.  It  seemed  to  be  suc- 
cessful too.  for  Belt  smiled,  and  looked  ironical- 
ly at  me,  like  one  who  rejoices  in  the  mishap 
of  his  comrade. 

She  took  us  into  the  house,  talkinij  with 
nnich  courtesy  to  Belt,  and  i<rnorincr  me  in  a 
manner  that  I  did  not  altogether  like,  even 
with  the  knowledge  that  it  was  but  assumption. 
She  led  us  into  the  presence  of  madame,  her 
mother,  who  looked  much  worn  with  care, 
though  preserving  a  haughty  demeanor.  As 
usual,  she  complained  that  our  visits  were  dis- 
courtesies, and  Belt  apologized  in  his  best  man- 
ner, (dad  that  the  brunt  did  not  now  fall  upon 
me,  I  deemed  it  best  tC3  keep  silence,  which  I  did 
in  most  complete  manner. 

Madame  invited  us  to  search  the  house  as 
we  pleased,  and  we  took  her  at  her  word,  finding 
nothinc:.  I  was  much  relieved  thereat.  I  had 
feared  that  Albert,  knowing  I  would  not  make 


68  THE    SUX   OF   SARATOGA. 

another  search  so  long  as  I  was  in  command, 
would  not  be  in  proper  conceahiient.  With 
my  rehef  was  mingled  a  certain  perplexity  that 
his  place  of  hiding  should  evade  me. 

Belt  was  a  gentleman  despite  his  curiosity, 
which  I  believe  the  Xew  England  people  can 
not  hel]).  and  for  which,  therefore,  they  are  not 
to  be  blamed,  and  when  he  had  finished  the  vain 
([uest  he  apologized  again  to  Madame  \'an 
Auken  and  her  daughter  for  troubling-  them. 
He  was  impressed  by  the  tine  looks  of  the 
daughter,  and  he  made  one  or  two  gallant 
speeches  to  her  which  she  received  very  well, 
as  I  notice  women  mostly  do  whatever  may 
be  the  circumstances.  1  felt  some  anger  toward 
Belt,  though  there  seemed  to  be  no  cause  for  it. 
When  we  left  the  house  he  said: 

"  Miss  \'an  Auken  doesn't  look  so  danger- 
ous, yet  you  say  she  is  a  red-hot  Tory." 

"  I  merely  included  her  in  a  generality,"  I 
replied.  "  The  others  of  the  family  are  strong 
Tories,  but  Miss  \'an  Auken,  I  have  reason  to 
think,  inclines  to  our  cause." 

"  That  is  good,"  he  said,  though  he  gave  no 
reason  why  it  should  seem  good  to  him.  After 
that  he  turned  his  attention  to  his  main  dutv. 


i 


MV   SUPERIOR   OFFICER. 


69 


examining  here  and  there  and  (hsplaying  the 
most  extreme  vigilance.  The  night  found  him 
still  prowling  about. 

Directly  after  nightfall  the  weather  turned 
very  cool  in  that  unaccountable  way  it  some- 
times has  in  the  late  summer  or  early  autumn, 
and  began  to  rain. 

It  was  a  most  cold  and  discouraging  rain 
that  hunted  every  hole  in  our  worn  uniforms, 
and  displayed  a  ])eculiar  knack  of  slipping  down 
our  collars.  I  found  myself  seeking  the  shelter 
of  trees,  and  as  the  cold  bit  into  the  marrow 
my  spirits  drooped  until  I  felt  like  an  old  man. 
Even  the  distant  skirmishers  were  depressed  by 
the  rainy  night,  for  the  shots  ceased  and  the 
hills  and  the  valleys  were  as  silent  and  lonely 
as  ever  they  were  before  the  white  man  came. 

I  was  thinking  it  was  a  very  long  and  most 
dismal  night  before  us,  when  1  heard  a  chatter- 
ing of  teeth  near  me,  and  turning  about  saw 
Belt  in  pitiable  condition.  He  was  all  drawn 
with  the  cold  damp,  and  his  face  looked  as 
shriveled  as  if  it  were  seventy  instead  of  twenty- 
five.  ^Moreover,  he  was  shaking  in  a  chill.  I 
had  noticed  before  that  the  man  did  not  look 
robust. 


70  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

''  This  is  a  little  hard  on  mc.  Shell)}-,"  he 
said,  his  tone  asking-  s\  inpathy.  *'  1  have  but 
lately  come  from  a  sick-bed,  and  1  fear  greatly 
this  rain  will  throw  me  into  a  fever." 

He  looked  very  longingly  at  the  house. 

1  fear  there  was  some  malice  in  me  then, 
for  he  had  put  aspersions  upon  my  courage 
earlier  in  the  day,  which  perhaps  he  had  a 
right  to  do,  not  knowing  my  secret  motives. 

"  The  weather  is  a  trifle  bad,  one  must  ad- 
mit, lieutenant,"  I  said,  "  but  you  and  I  will 
not  mind  it;  moreover,  the  darkness  of  the 
night  demands  greater  vigilance  on  our  part." 

He  said  nothing,  merely  rattled  his  teeth 
together  and  walked  on  with  what  I  admit  was 
a  brave  show  for  a  man  shaking  in  a  bad  chill. 
As  his  assistant  I  could  go  and  come  pretty 
much  as  I  chose,  and  I  kept  him  in  view,  bent 
on  seeing  what  he  would  do. 

He  endured  the  chill  most  handsomely  for 
quite  a  time,  but  the  wet  and  the  cold  lent  ag- 
gravation to  it,  and  presently  he  turned  to  me, 
his  teeth  clicking  together  in  most  formidable 
fashion. 

"  I  fear,  Shelby,  that  I  must  seek  shelter  in 
the  house,"   he  said.     **  I   would  stick  to  the 


MY  SUPERIOR   OFFICER. 


71 


watch  out  here,  but  this  confounded  chill  has 
me  in  its  grip  and  will  not  let  go.  But,  as  you 
have  done  good  work  here  and  1  would  not 
seem  selfish,  you  shall  go  in  with  me." 

I  understood  his  motive,  which  was  to  pro- 
vide that  in  case  he  should  incur  censure  for 
going  into  the  house,  I  could  share  it  and  divide 
it  with  him.  It  was  no  very  admirable  action 
on  Belt's  part,  but  I  minded  it  not;  in  truth  I 
rather  liked  it,  for  since  he  was  to  be  in  the 
house,  I  preferred  to  be  there  too,  and  at  the 
same  time,  and  not  for  matters  concernini^:  mv 
health.  I  decided  quickly  that  I  must  seem  his 
friend  and  give  him  sympathy;  in  truth  I  was 
not  his  enemy  at  all;  I  merely  found  him  in- 
convenient. 

We  went  again  to  the  front  door  and 
knocked  many  times  before  any  answer  came  to 
us.  Then  two  heads — the  one  of  Mistress  Kate, 
the  other  of  her  mother — v/ere  thrust  out  of 
an  upper  window  and  the  usual  question  was 
propounded  to  us. 

*'  Lieutenant  Belt  is  very  ill,"  I  said,  taking 
the  word  from  his  lips.  "  and  needs  must  have 
shelter  from  the  cruelty  of  the  night.  We  would 
not  trouble  vou  were  not  the  case  extreme." 


-2  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

T  could  see  that  I'elt  was  c^ratoful  for  llie 
way  I  had  put  the  uiatler.  Presently  they 
()])ened  the  door,  both  a])i)earini;-  there  for  the 
sake  of  company  at  that  hoiu',  I  supptjse.  licit 
tried  to  ])reser\e  an  appearance  in  the  presence 
of  the  ladies,  but  he  was  too  sick.  He  treiubled 
with  his  chill  like  a  sapliui^-  in  a  high  wind,  and 
J  said: 

"  Lieutenant  Belt's  condition  speaks  for  it- 
self; nothing  else  could  have  induced  us  to  in- 
trude upon  you  at  such  an  untimely  hour." 

1  fancy  1  said  that  well,  and  l)oth  Madame 
V^an  Auken  and  her  daughter  showed  pity  for 
Belt;  yet  the  elder  could  not  wholly  repress  a 
display  of  feeling-  against  us. 

*'  \Vq  can  not  turn  any  one  ill,  not  even  an 
enemy,  away  from  our  door,"  she  said,  "  but  I 
fear  the  rebel  armies  have  left  us  little  for  the 
uses  of  hospitality." 

She  said  this  in  the  stiff  and  rather  precise 
way  that  our  fathers  and  mothers  affected,  but 
she  motioned  for  us  to  come  in,  and  we  obeyed 
her.  I  confess  1  was  rather  glad  to  enter  the 
dry  room,  for  my  clothes  were  flapping  wet 
about  me. 

"  Perhaps  the  lieutenant  would  like  to  lie 


MY   SUPERIOR   OFFICER. 


•3 


down,"  said  ^^adamc  \'an  Aukcn.  poiiitin<j^  to 
a  lari^e  and  conifortaljle  sofa  in  the  corner  of 
ilie  room  that  we  had  entered. 

lUU  Helt  was  too  prond  to  do  that,  thon^h 
it  was  needful  to  him.  He  sat  down  merely 
and  continued  to  shiver.  Mistress  Kate  came 
])resentiy  with  a  large  draught  of  hot  whisky 
and  water  which  smelled  most  savorously.  She 
insisted  that  Belt  drink  it,  and  he  swallowed 
it  all,  leaving  none  for  me.  Madame  \'an  Auken 
placed  a  lighted  candle  upon  a  little  table,  and 
then  both  the  ladies  withdrew. 

Belt  said  he  felt  better,  but  he  had  a  most 
wretched  appearance.  I  insisted  that  he  let  me 
feel  his  pulse,  and  I  found  he  was  bordering 
upon  a  high  fever,  and  most  likely,  if  precau- 
tions were  not  taken,  would  soon  be  out  of  his 
senses.  The  wet  clothes  were  the  chief  trouble, 
and  I  said  they  must  come  ofY.  Belt  demurred 
for  a  while,  but  he  consented  at  last  when  I  told 
him  persistent  refusal  might  mean  his  death. 

1  roused  up  the  ladies  again,  explaining  the 
cause  of  this  renev.ed  interruption,  and  secured 
from  them  their  sympathy  and  a  large  bedquilt. 
r  made  Belt  take  olY  his  uniform,  and  then  I 
spread  the  quilt  over  him  as  he  lay  on  the  sofa, 


74 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


telling  him  to  go  to  sleep.  He  said  he  had  no 
such  intention;  but  a  second  hot  draught  of 
whisky  which  Kate  brought  to  the  door  gave 
him  the  inclination,  if  not  the  intention.  But 
he  fought  against  it,  and  his  will  was  aided  by 
the  sudden  revival  c^f  sounds  V\'hich  betokened 
that  the  skirmishing  had  begun  again.  Through 
the  window  ^  heard  the  faint  patter  of  ritles, 
but  the  shots  were  too  distant,  or  the  night  too 
dark  to  disclose  the  Hash.  This  sudden  spurt 
of  warlike  activity  told  me  once  again  that  the 
great  crisis  was  approaching  fast,  and  I  hoped 
most  earnestly  that  events  at  the  Van  Auken 
house  would  culminate  first. 

Belt  was  still  strucfo'linj^  against  weakness 
and  sleep,  and  he  complained  fretfully  when  he 
heard  the  rille  shots,  bemoaning  his  fate  to  be 
seized  by  a  wretched,  miserable  chill  at  such  a 
time. 

"  Perhaps  after  all  the  battle  may  be  fought 
without  me,"  said  he  with  unintended  humor. 

I  assured  him  that  he  would  be  all  right  in 
the  morning.  His  resistance  to  sleep,  I  told 
him,  was  his  own  injury,  for  it  was  needful  to  his 
health.  He  took  me  at  my  word  and  let  h\> 
eyelids   droop.       I    foresaw   that   he   would  be 


I 


MY  SUPERIOR   OFFICER. 


75 


asleep  very  soon,  but  he  roused  up  a  bit  pres- 
ently and  showed  anxiety  about  the  guard.  He 
wanted  to  be  sure  that  everything  was  done 
right,  and  asked  me  to  go  out  and  see  White- 
stone,  whom  we  had  left  in  charge  when  we 
entered  the  house. 

I  was  averse  in  no  particular  and  slipped 
(juietly  out  into  the  darkness.  I  found  White- 
stone  in  the  valley. 

"  All  quiet,"  he  reported.  "  I've  just  come 
from  a  round  of  the  sentinels  and  there's  noth- 
ing suspicious.  I'm  going  back  myself  present- 
ly to  watch  in  front  of  the  house." 

I  knew  Whi'  jstone  would  ask  no  questions, 
so  I  told  him  the  lieutenant  was  still  very  ill 
and  I  would  return  to  him;  I  did  not  know 
how  long  I  would  stay  in  the  house,  I  said. 
Whitestone,  like  the  good,  silent  fellow  he  was, 
made  no  reply. 

I  returned  to  the  front  door.     I  was  now 

learning  the  way  into  the  house  very  well.     I 

had  traveled  it  often  enough.     I  stood  for  a 

moment  in  the  little  portico,  which  was  as  clean 

:.r,d  white  as  if  washed  by  the  sea.     The  rain 

]'-u\  nearly  ceased  to  fall,  and  the  blaze  of  the 

distant  skirmishing  suddenly  flared  up  on  the 
6 


^6  THE   SUN  OF   SARATOGA. 

dark  horizon  like  a  forest  fire.  I  wondered  not 
that  the  two  women  in  the  house  should  be 
moved  by  all  this;  I  wondered  rather  at  their 
courage.  In  the  yard  stood  Whitestone,  his 
figure  rising  up  as  stiff  and  straight  as  a  post. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


belt's  ghost. 


I  found  Belt  fast  asleep.  The  two  draughts 
of  whisky,  heavy  and  hot,  had  been  a  blanket 
to  his  senses,  and  he  had  gone  off  for  a  while  to 
another  world  to  think  and  to  struggle  still,  for 
he  muttered  and  squirmed  in  his  restless  slum- 
ber. His  hand  when  I  touched  it  was  yet  hot 
with  fever.  He  might,  most  likely  would,  be 
better  when  he  awoke  in  the  morning,  but  he 
\v'ould  be  flat  aback  the  remainder  of  the  night. 
He  could  conduct  no  further  search  in  that 
house  before  the  next  day. 

I  was  uncertain  what  to  do,  whether  to  re- 
main there  with  Belt  or  go  out  and  help  White- 
stone  with  the  watch.  Duty  to  our  cause  said 
the  latter,  but  in  truth  other  voices  are  some- 
limes  as  loud  as  that  of  duty.  I  listened  to  one 
of  the  other. 

I  drew  a  chair  near  to  Belt's  couch  and  sat 

77 


yS  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

clown.  He  was  still  muttering  in  his  hot,  sweaty 
sleep  like  one  with  anger  at  things,  and  now 
and  then  threw  out  his  long  thin  legs  and  arms. 
He  looked  like  a  man  tied  down  trying  to 
escape. 

The  candle  still  burned  on  the  table,  but  its 
light  was  feeble  at  best.  Shadows  filled  the 
corners  of  the  room.  I  like  sick-bed  watches 
but  little,  and  least  of  all  such  as  that.  They 
make  me  feel  as  if  I  had  lost  my  place  in  a 
healthy  world.  To  such  purpose  was  I  think- 
ing when  Belt  sat  up  with  a  suddenness  that 
made  me  start,  and  cried  in  a  voice  cracked 
with  fever: 

"  Shelby,  are  you  there?  " 

''  Yes,  I'm  here,"  I  replied  with  a  cheeriness 
that  I  did  not  feel.  "  Lie  down  and  go  to 
sleep,  lieutenant,  or  you'll  be  a  week  getting 
well." 

"  I  can't  go  to  sleep,  and  I  haven't  been  to 
sleep,"  he  said,  raising  his  voice,  which  had  a 
whistling  note  of  illness  in  it. 

His  eyes  sparkled,  and  I  could  see  that  the 
machinery  of  his  head  was  working  badly.  I 
took  him  by  the  shoulders  with  intent  to  force 
him  down  upon  the  couch;    but  he  threw  me 


BELT'S  GHOST. 


79 


off  with  sudden  energy  that  took  me  by  sur- 
prise. 

"  Let  me  go,"  he  said,  '*  till  I  say  what  I 
want  to  sav." 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  I  asked,  thinking  to 
pacify  him. 

"  Shelby,"  said  he,  belief  showing  all  over  his 
face,  "  I've  seen  a  ghost!  " 

A  strong  desire  to  laugh  was  upon  me,  but 
I  did  not  let  it  best  me,  for  I  had  respect  for 
Belt,  who  was  my  superior  officer.  I  don't  be- 
lieve in  ghosts;   they  never  come  to  see  me. 

"  You're  sick,  and  you've  been  dreaming, 
lieutenant,"  I  said.     "  Go  to  sleep." 

"  I'll  try  to  go  to  sleep,"  he  replied,  "  but 
what  I  say  is  truth,  and  I've  seen  a  ghost." 

"  What  did  it  look  hke?  "  I  asked,  remem- 
bering that  it  is  best  to  fall  in  with  the  humor 
of  mad  people. 

"  Like  a  woman,"  he  replied,  ''  and  that's  all 
I  can  say  on  that  point,  for  this  cursed  fever  has 
drawn  a  veil  over  my  eyes.  I  had  shut  them, 
trying  to  go  to  sleep,  but  something  kept  pull- 
ing my  eyelids  apart,  and  open  they  came  again ; 
there  was  the  ghost,  the  ghost  of  a  woman;  it 
had  come  through   the  wall,    I   suppose.       It 


So  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

floated  all  around  the  room  as  if  it  were  look- 
ing for  something,  but  not  making  a  breath  of 
a  noise,  like  a  white  cloud  sailing  through  the 
air.  I  tell  you,  Shelby,  I  was  in  fear,  for  I  had 
never  believed  in  such  things,  and  I  had  laughed 
at  them." 

"  What  became  of  the  ghost?  "  I  asked. 

"  It  went  away  just  like  it  came,  through 
the  wall,  I  guess,"  said  Belt.  "  All  I  know  is 
that  I  saw  it,  and  then  I  didn't.  And  I  want 
you  to  stay  with  me,  Shelby;  don't  leave  me!  " 

This  time  I  laughed,  and  on  purpose.  I 
wanted  to  chirk  Belt  up  a  bit,  and  I  thought 
I  could  do  it  by  ridiculing  such  a  fever  dream. 
But  I  could  not  shake  the  conviction  in  him. 
Instead,  his  temper  took  heat  at  my  lack  of 
faith.  Then  I  affected  to  believe,  which  soothed 
him,  and  exhaustion  falling  upon  him  I  saw 
that  either  he  would  slumber  again  or  weakness 
would  steal  his  senses.  I  thought  to  ease  his 
mind,  and  told  him  everything  outside  was 
going  well;  that  Whitestone  was  the  best  sen- 
tinel in  the  world,  and  not  even  a  lizard  could 
creep  past  him  though  the  night  might  be 
black  as  coal.  Whereat  he  smiled,  and  present- 
ly turning  over  on  his  side  began  to  mutter, 


i 


BELT'S   GHOST.  8 1 

l^y  which  I  knew  that  a  hot  sleep  was  again 
laying  hold  of  him. 

After  the  rain  it  had  turned  very  warm  again, 
and  I  opened  the  window  for  unbreathed  air. 
Belt's  request  that  I  stay  with  him,  given  in  a 
sort  of  delirium  tliough  it  was,  made  good  ex- 
cuse for  my  remaining.  If  ever  he  said  any- 
thing about  it  I  could  allege  his  own  words. 

The  candle  burned  down  more  on  one  side 
than  on  the  other  and  its  blaze  leaned  over  like 
a  man  sick.     It  served  but  to  distort. 

I  looked  at  Belt  and  wondered  why  the 
mind  too  should  grow  weak,  as  it  most  often 
does  when  disease  la  hold  of  the  body.  In  his 
healthy  senses.  Belt — who,  like  most  New  Eng- 
landers,  believed  only  what  he  saw — would  have 
jeered  at  the  claims  of  a  ghost.  There  was  little 
credulity  in  that  lank,  bony  frame. 

But  I  stopped  short  in  such  thoughts,  for  I 
noticed  that  which  made  my  blood  quicken  in 
surprise.  Belt's  uniform  was  gone.  I  rose  and 
looked  behind  the  couch,  thinking  the  lieu- 
tenant in  his  uneasy  squirmings  might  have 
knocked  it  over  there.  But  he  had  not  done 
so;  nor  was  it  elsewhere  in  the  room.  It  had 
gone  clean  away — perhaps  through  the  wall,  like 


82  THE   SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 

Belt's  ghost.  I  wondered  what  Whitestone's 
emotions  would  be  if  a  somewhat  soiled  and 
worn  Continental  uniform,  with  no  flesh  and 
bones  in  it,  should  come  walking  down  his  beat. 

I  understood  that  it  was  a  time  for  me  to 
think  my  best,  and  I  set  about  it.  I  leaned  back 
in  my  chair  and  stared  at  the  wall  in  the  manner 
of  those  who  do  strenuous  thinking.  I  shifted 
my  gaze  but  once,  and  then  to  put  it  upon  Belt, 
who  I  concluded  would  not  come  back  to  earth 
for  a  long  time. 

At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  I  rose  from  my 
chair  and  went  out  into  the  hall,  leaving  the 
candle  still  burning  on  the  table.  Perhaps  I, 
too,  might  find  a  ghost.  I  did  not  mean  to  lose 
the  opportiuiity  which  might  never  seek  me 
again. 

The  hall  ran  the  full  width  of  the  house  and 
\vas  broad.  There  was  a  window  at  the  end, 
but  the  light  was  so  faint  I  could  scarce  see, 
and  in  the  corners  and  near  the  walls  so  much 
dusk  was  gathered  that  the  eye  w^as  of  no  use 
there.  Yet,  by  much  stealing  about  and  reach- 
ing here  and  there  with  my  hands,  I  convinced 
myself  that  no  ghost  lurked  in  that  hall.  But 
there  was  a  stairway  leading  into  an  upper  hall, 


BELT'S  GHOST. 


83 


and,  as  silent  as  a  ghost  myself,  for  which  I  take 
pride,  I  stole  up  the  steps. 

Just  before  I  reached  the  top  step  I  heard 
a  faint  shuffling  noise  like  that  which  a  heavy 
and  awkward  ghost  with  poor  use  of  himself 
would  most  likely  make.  Nay,  I  have  heard 
that  ghosts  never  make  noise,  but  I  see  no  rea- 
son why  they  shouldn't,  at  least  a  little. 

I  crouched  down  in  the  shadow  of  the  top 
step  and  the  banisters.  The  faint  shufiiing 
noise  came  nearer,  and  Belt's  lost  uniform,  up- 
right and  in  its  proper  shape,  drifted  past  me 
and  down  the  steps.  I  followed  lightly.  I  was 
not  afraid.  I  have  never  heard,  at  least  not 
with  the  proper  authenticity,  that  ghosts  strike 
one,  or  do  other  deeds  of  violence;  so  I  fol- 
lowed, secure  in  my  courage.  The  brass  but- 
tons on  the  uniform  gleamed  a  little,  and  I  kept 
them  in  clear  view.  Down  the  steps  went  the 
figure,  and  then  it  sped  along  the  hall,  with  me 
after  it.  It  reached  the  front  door,  opened  it 
half  a  foot  and  stood  there.  That  was  my  op- 
portunity to  hold  discussion  with  a  ghost,  and  I 
did  not  neglect  it.  Forward  I  slipped  and 
tapped  with  my  fingers  an  arm  of  the  uniform, 
which   inclosed   not   empty   air   but   flesh   and 


84  THE   SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 

blood.  Startled,  the  figure  faced  about  and  saw 
my  features,  for  a  little  light  came  in  at  the 
door. 

*'  I  offer  congratulations  on  your  speedy  re- 
covery from  fever,  Lieutenant  Belt,"  I  said,  in 
a  subdued  tone. 

*'  It  was  quick,  it  is  true,"  he  replied,  "  but 
I  need  something  more." 

"What  is  that?"  I  asked. 

"  Fresh  air,"  he  replied.  "  I  think  I  will  go 
outside." 

"  I  will  go  with  you,"  I  said.  "  Fevers  are 
uncertain,  and  one  can  not  tell  what  may  hap- 
pen." 

He  hesitated  as  if  he  would  make  demur, 
but  I  said: 

''  It  is  necessary  to  both  of  us." 

He  hesitated  no  longer,  but  opened  the  door 
wider  and  stepped  out  into  the  portico.  I 
looked  with  much  anxiety  to  see  what  sort  of 
watch  was  kept,  and  no  doubt  my  companion 
did  the  same.  It  was  good.  Three  sentinels 
were  in  sight.  Directly  in  front  of  us,  and  about 
thirty  feet  away,  was  Whitestone.  The  skir- 
mishers and  their  rifles  had  not  yet  gone  to 
sleep,   for  twice  while  we  stood  on   the  por- 


BELT'S  GHOST.  85 

tico  we  saw  the  Hash  of  powder  on  the  distant 
hills. 

"  Lieutenant,  I  think  we  had  best  walk  in 
the  direction  of  the  firing  and  make  a  little  in- 
vestigation,"  I  said. 

''  The  idea  is  good,"  he  replied.  ''  We  will 
do  it." 

We  walked  down  the  steps  and  into  the 
yard.  I  was  slightly  in  advance,  leading  the 
way.  We  passed  within  a  dozen  feet  of  White- 
stone,  who  saluted. 

"  Sergeant,"  said  I,  "  Lieutenant  Belt,  who 
feels  much  better,  and  I,  wish  to  inquire  further 
into  the  skirmishing.  There  may  be  some  sig- 
nificance for  us  in  it.  We  will  return  present- 
Iv." 

Whitestone  saluted  again  and  said  nothing. 
Once  more  I  wish  to  commend  Whitestone  as 
a  jewel.  He  did  not  turn  to  look  at  us 
when  we  passed  him,  but  stalked  up  and 
down  as  if  he  were  a  wooden  figure  moving  on 
hinges. 

W^e  walked  northward,  neither  speaking. 
Some  three  or  four  hundred  yards  from  the 
house  both  of  us  stopped.  Then  I  put  my  hand 
upon  his  arm  again. 


86  THE  SUN  OF   SARATOGA. 

'*  Albert,"  I  said,  "  your  fortune  is  far  better 
than  yon  deserve,  or  ever  will  deserve." 

''  I  don't  know  about  that,"  he  replied. 

"  I  do,"  I  said.  "  Now,  beyond  those  hills 
are  the  camp-fires  of  Burgoyne.  You  came  thus 
far  easily  enough  in  your  effort  to  get  out, 
though  Martyn,  who  came  w^ith  you,  failed,  and 
you  can  go  back  the  same  way;  but,  before  you 
start,  take  off  Belt's  uniform.  I  w-on't  have 
you  masquerading  as  an  American  officer." 

Without  a  w^ord  he  took  off  the  Continental 
uniform  and  stood  in  the  citizen's  suit  in  which 
I  had  first  seen  him,  Belt  being  a  larger  man 
than  he.  I  rolled  them  up  in  a  bundle  and  put 
the  bunale  under  mv  arm. 

^'  Shake  hands,"  he  said.  "  You've  done 
me  a  good  turn." 

*'  Several  of  them,"  I  said,  as  I  shook  his 
hand,  "  which  is  several  more  than  you  have 
done  for  me." 

"  I  don't  bear  you  any  grudge  on  that  ac- 
count," he  said  with  a  faint  laugh,  as  he  strode 
off  in  the  darkness  toward  Burgoyne's  army. 

Which,  I  take  it,  w-as  handsome  of  him. 

I  watched  him  as  long  as  I  could.  You  may 
not  be  able  sometimes  to  look  in  the  darkness 


V 


'.  < 


BELT'S   GHOST. 


87 


and  find  a  figure,  but  when  that  figure  departs 
from  your  side  and  you  never  take  your  eyes 
off  it,  you  can  follow  it  for  a  long  wa}  through 
the  night.  Thus  I  could  watch  Albert  a  hun- 
dred yards  or  more,  and  I  saw  that  he  veered 
in  no  wise  from  the  course  I  had  assigned  to 
him,  and  kept  his  face  turned  to  the  army  of 
Burgoyne.  But  I  had  not  doubted  that  he 
would  keep  his  word  and  would  not  seek  to 
escape  southward;  nor  did  I  doubt  that  he 
would  reach  his  comrades  in  safety. 

I  turned  away,  very  glad  that  he  was  gone. 
Friends  cause  much  trouble  sometimes,  but 
girls'  brothers  cause  more. 

I  took  my  thoughts  away  from  him  and 
turned  them  to  the  business  of  going  back  into 
the  house  with  the  wad  of  uniform  under  my 
arm,  which  was  very  simple  if  things  turned 
out  all  right.  I  believed  that  Whitestone  would 
be  on  guard  at  the  same  place,  whicli  was  what 
I  wanted.  I  knew  Whitestone  vvould  be  the 
most  vigilant  of  all  the  sentinels,  but  I  was  ac- 
customed to  him.  One  prefers  to  do  business 
with  a  man  one  knows. 

I  sauntered  back  slowly,  now  and  then  turn- 
ing about  on  my  heels  as  if  I  would  spy  out  the 


88  THE  SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

landscape,  which  in  truth  was  pretty  well  hid 
by  the  thickness  of  the  night. 

As  I  approached  the  yard  my  heart  gave  a 
thump  like  a  hammer  on  the  anvil;  but  there 
was  Whitestone  on  the  same  beat,  and  my  heart 
thumped  again,  but  with  more  consideration 
than  before. 

I  entered  the  yard,  c.nd  Whitestone  saluted 
with  dignity. 

"  Sergeant,"  said  I,  "■  Lieutenant  Belt  is 
looking  about  on  the  other  side  of  the  house. 
He  fears  that  his  fever  is  coming  on  him  again, 
and  he  will  re-enter  the  house,  but  by  the  back 
door.    I  am  to  meet  him  there." 

Sergeant  Whitestone  saluted  again.  I  said 
naught  of  the  bundle  in  the  crook  of  my  arm, 
which  he  could  plainly  see. 

"  Sergeant,"  said  I,  ''  what  do  you  think  of 
a  man  who  tells  all  he  knows?  " 

"  Very  little,  sir,"  he  replied. 

"  So  do  I,"  I  said;  ''  but  be  that  as  it  may, 
you  know  that  you  and  I  are  devoted  to  the 
patriot  cause." 

"  Aye,  truly,  sir!  "  he  said. 

We  saluted  each  other  again  with  great  re- 
spect, and  I  passed  into  the  house. 


BELT'S   GHOST.  3^ 

Belt  was  still  asleep  upon  the  sofa  and  his 
fever  was  going  down,  though  he  talked  now 
and  then  of  the  things  that  were  on  his  brain 
when  awake.  The  candle  was  dying,  the  tallow 
sputtering  as  the  blaze  reached  the  last  of  it, 
and  without  another  the  thickness  of  the  night 
would  be  upon  us. 

I  ascended  the  stairway  into  the  upper  hall 
again,  but  this  time  with  no  attempt  to  rival 
a  ghost  in  smoothness  of  motion.  Instead,  I 
stumbled  about  like  a  man  in  whose  head  hot 
punch  has  set  everything  to  dancing.  Prc-^ent- 
ly  Mistress  Kate,  bearing  a  candle  in  her  hand 
and  dressed  as  if  for  the  day — at  which  I  was  not 
surprised — appeared  from  the  side  door. 

I  begged  her  for  another  candle,  if  the  supply 
in  the  house  were  not  exhausted,  and  stepping 
back  she  returned  in  a  moment  with  what  I 
desired;  then  in  a  tone  of  much  sympathy 
she  inquired  as  to  the  state  of  Lieutenant  Belt^s 
health.  I  said  he  was  sleeping  peacefully,  and 
suggested  that  she  come  and  look  at  him,  as  she 
might  have  sufficient  knowledge  of  medicine 
to  assist  me  in  the  case.  To  which  she  con- 
sented, though  ever  one  of  the  most  modest  of 
maidens. 


90 


THE   SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 


I  held  the  candle  near  Belt's  face,  but  in  such 
position  that  the  light  would  not  shine  into  his 
eyes  and  awaken  him. 

"  But  the  lieutenant  would  rather  be  oh  his 
feet  again  and  in  these  garments,"  I  said,  turn- 
ing the  light  upon  Belt's  uniform,  which  I  had 
carefully  spread  out  again  on  the  foot  of  the 
couch.    Then  I  added: 

"  The  wearer  of  that  uniform  has  had  many 
adventures,  doubtless,  but  he  has  not  come  to 
any  harm  yet." 

I  might  have  talked  further,  but  I  knew  that 
naught  more  was  needed  for  Kate  Van  Auken. 

Moreover,  no  words  could  ever  be  cited 
against  me. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


IN  burgoyne's  camp. 


Belt  awoke  the  next  morning  in  fairly  good 
health,  but  very  sour  of  temper.  Like  some 
other  people  whom  I  know,  he  seemed  to  hold 
everybody  he  met  personally  responsible  for  his 
own  misfortunes,  which  I  take  it  is  most  dis- 
agreeable for  all  concerned.  He  spoke  to  me 
in  most  churlish  manner,  though  I  am  fair  to 
say  I  replied  in  similar  fashion,  which  for  some 
reason  seemed  to  cause  him  discontent.  Then 
he  went  out  and  quarreled  with  Whitestone 
and  the  others,  who  had  been  doing  their  duty 
in  complete  fashion. 

But  a  few  minutes  after  he  had  gone  out, 
Madame  Van  Auken,  who  was  a  ladv  in  the 
highest  degree,  though  a  Tory  one,  came  to  me 
and  said  she  and  her  daughter  had  prepared 
breakfast;  scanty,  it  is  true,  for  the  rebels  had 
passed  that  way  too  often,  but  it  would  most 

7  91 


92 


THE   SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 


likely  be  better  than  army  fare,  and  would  be 
good  for  invalids;  would  I  be  so  kind  as  to 
ask  Lieutenant  Belt  to  come  in  and  share  it 
with  them,  and  would  I  do  them  the  further 
kindness  to  present  myself  at  the  breakfast  also? 
I  would  be  delighted,  and  I  said  so,  also  hurry- 
ing forth  to  find  Belt,  to  whom  I  gave  the  in- 
vitation. He  accepted  in  tone  somewhat  un- 
gracious, I  thought,  but  improved  in  manner 
when  he  entered  the  presence  of  the  ladies;  for, 
after  all,  Belt  was  a  gentleman,  and  I  will  admit 
that  he  had  been  unfortunate.  As  we  went 
in  to  the  breakfast  table  I  said  to  Belt: 

'*  You've  come  out  of  that  chill  and  fever 
very  well,  lieutenant.  You  look  a  little  weak, 
but  all  right  otherwise." 

**  You  seem  to  have  had  your  own  worries," 
he  replied  a  bit  slowly,  ''  for  something  has  been 
painting  night  under  your  eyes." 

Well,  it  was  natural;  it  had  been  an  anxious 
time  for  me  in  truth.  But  I  suggested  it  vv^as 
due  to  long  night  watches. 

The  ladies,  as  they  had  said,  had  not  a  great 
deal  to  offer,  but  it  was  well  prepared  by  their 
own  hands.  They  had  some  very  fine  coffee, 
to  which  I  am  ever  partial,  especially  in  the 


IN   BURGOYNE'S  CAMP. 


93 


mornings,  and  we  made  most  excellent  progress 
with  the  breakfast,  even  Belt  waxing  amiable. 
But  about  the  middle  of  the  breakfast  he  asked 
quite  suddenly  of  us  all: 

"  Do  you  believe  in  ghosts?  " 

I  was  a  bit  startled,  I  will  admit,  but  I  re- 
joice to  think  that  I  did  not  show  it.  Instead, 
I  looked  directlv  at  Mistress  Kate,  who  in  truth 
looked  very  handsome  and  lighted-hearted  that 
morning,  and  asked: 

"  Do  you  believe  in  ghosts?  " 

*'  Of  a  certainty — of  a  certainty,"  she  said 
with  em.phasis. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  I  with  equal  emphasis. 

Madame  Van  Auken  drank  her  coffee. 

"  I  don't,"  said  Belt.  "  I  thought  I  did  for 
a  while  last  night.  I  even  thought  I  saw  one 
while  Shelby  was  away  from  me  for  a  while." 

I  rallied  Belt,  and  explained  to  the  ladies 
that  the  fever  had  given  him  an  illusion  the 
night  before.  They  joined  me  in  the  raillery, 
and  trusted  that  the  gallant  lieutenant  would 
iiot  see  double  when  he  met  his  enemies.  Belt 
took  it  very  well,  better  than  I  had  thought. 
But  after  the  breakfast,  when  we  had  withdrawn 
again,  he  said  to  me  with  a  sour  look: 


g4  THE   SUN  OF   SARATOGA. 

*'  I  do  not  trust  those  ladies,  Shelby." 

"  Well,  as  for  that,"  I  replied,  "  I  told  you 
that  Madame  Van  Auken  was  a  hot  Tory,  of 
which  fact  she  seeks  to  make  no  concealment. 
But  I  don't  see  what  harm  they  could  do  us, 
however  much  they  might  wish  it." 

"  Maybe,"  he  said;  then  with  a  sudden 
change: 

''  Why  did  you  say  this  morning  that  you 
believed  in  ghosts,  when  last  night  you  said  you 
didn't?" 

I  fixed  upon  him  the  sharp  stare  of  one 
amazed  at  such  a  question. 

''  Belt,"  said  I,  "  I  am  a  believer  in  ghosts. 
I  am  also  a  devout  believer  in  the  report  that 
the  moon  is  made  of  moldy  green  cheese." 

He  sniffed  a  bit,  and  let  me  alone  on  that 
point,  but  he  returned  to  the  attack  on  the 
ladies.  I  do  not  know  what  idea  had  found 
lodgment  in  his  head;  in  truth  it  may  have 
l)een  due  to  biliousness,  but  he  suspected  them 
most  strongly  of  what  he  called  treasonable 
correspondence  with  the  enemy.  I  asked  him 
what  course  he  intended  to  take  in  the  matter, 
and  he  returned  a  vague  answer;  but  I  soon 
received  intimation  of  his  purpose,   for  in  an 


IN   BURGOYNE'S  CAMP. 


95 


hour,  leaving  me  in  charge  for  the  time,  he  re- 
turned to  the  army.  He  made  a  quick  trip,  and 
when  he  came  back  he  told  me  he  had  reported 
the  case  at  headquarters.  The  general,  not 
knowing  w'hat  else  to  do  with  the  ladies,  had 
directed  that  they  be  sent  to  Burgoyne's  army, 
where,  he  understood,  they  had  relatives. 

''  He  said  to  me,"  said  Belt,  '*  that  at  this 
time  it  would  be  just  as  well  for  the  British  to 
take  care  of  their  own." 

Reflecting  a  Httle,  I  decided  that  the  matter 
had  fallen  out  very  well.  If  they  were  in  Bur- 
goyne's camp  it  would  release  us  all  from  some 
troubles  and  doubts. 

"  You  had  best  go  into  the  house  and  notify 
them,"  said  Belt,  ''  for  they  are  to  be  taken  to 
Burgoyne  under  a  white  flag  this  very  after- 


noon." 


I  found  Mistress  Kate  first  and  told  her  what 
Belt  had  done.  She  did  not  seem  to  be  much 
surprised.  In  truth,  she  said  she  had  expect- 
ed it. 

*'  I  trust.  Mistress  Kate,"  I  said,  "  that  while 
you  are  in  Burgoyne's  army  you  w^ill  not  let 
your  opinions  be  influenced  too  much  by  your 
surroundings." 


96  THE  SUN  OF  SARATOGA. 

"  My  opinions  are  my  own,"  she  said,  "  and 
are  not  dependent  upon  time  and  place." 

Then  I  said  something  about  its  being  a  pity 
that  Captain  Chudleigh  was  a  prisoner  in  our 
hands  at  such  a  time  and  was  not  with  his  own 
army,  but  she  gave  me  such  a  sharp  answer  that 
I  was  glad  to  shut  my  mouth. 

Madame  Van  Auken  said  she  was  glad  to 
go,  but  she  would  revisit  her  house  when  she 
came  southward  with  Burgoyne  after  he  had 
scattered  the  rebels,  provided  the  rebels 
in  the  meantime  had  not  burned  the  house 
down.  Which,  considering  many  things,  I  felt 
I  could  overlook.  Both  promised  to  be  ready 
in  an  hour.  I  went  outside  and  found  that  Belt 
was  able  to  surprise  me  again. 

*'  You  are  to  take  the  ladies  into  Burgoyne's 
camp,"  he  said.  "  I  wished  to  do  it  myself,  but 
I  was  needed  for  other  work." 

I  was  not  at  all  averse  to  this  task,  though 
it  had  never  occurred  to  me  that  I  would  enter 
the  British  lines,  except  possibly  as  a  prisoner. 

"  I  wish  you  luck,"  said  Belt,  somewhat  en- 
viously. "  I  think  the  trip  into  the  British  lines 
is  worth  taking."  •         , 

Right  here  I  may  say — for  Belt  does  not 


IN   BURGOYNE'S  CAMP. 


97 


come  into  this  narration  again — that  after  the 
war  I  told  him  the  whole  story  of  these  affairs, 
which  he  enjoyed  most  heartily,  and  is  at  this 
day  one  among  my  best  friends. 

The  preliminaries  about  the  transfer  of  the 
ladies  to  Burgoyne's  camp  were  but  few,  though 
I  was  exposed  on  the  way  to  much  censure  from 
Madame  Van  Auken  because  of  my  rebel  pro- 
clivities. In  truth,  Mistress  Catherine,  I  think, 
took  after  her  deceased  and  lamented  father 
rather  than  her  mother,  who  I  knew  had  made 
the  signal  of  the  light  to  Martyn,  and  to  Albert, 
who  was  on  foot  near  him.  But  I  bore  it  very 
well,  inasmuch  as  one  can  grow  accustomed  to 
almost  anything. 

I  found  that  during  my  few  days'  absence 
our  army  had  pushed  up  much  closer  to  Bur- 
goyne,  and  also  that  we  had  increased  greatly 
in  numbers.  Nothing  could  save  Burgoyne, 
so  I  heard,  but  the  arrival  of  Clinton  from  New- 
York  with  heavy  re-enforcements,  and  even 
then,  at  the  best  for  Burgoyne,  it  would  be  but 
a  problem.  My  heart  swelled  with  that  sudden 
elation  one  feels  when  a  great  reward  looks  cer- 
tain after  long  trial. 
.     Protected    by    the    flag    of    truce    we    ap- 


98 


THE   SUN  OF   SARATOGA. 


proached  Burgoyne's  lines.  There  were  but 
the  three  of  us,  the  two  ladies  and  I.  Mistress 
Kate  was  very  silent;  Madame  Van  Auken,  for 
whom  I  have  the  utmost  respect,  be  her  opin- 
ions what  they  may,  did  the  talking  for  all 
three.  She  was  in  somewhat  exuberant  mood, 
as  she  expected  to  rejoin  her  son,  thus  having 
all  her  immediate  family  together  under  the  flag 
that  she  loved.  She  had  no  doubt  that  Bur- 
goyne  would  beat  us.  I  could  not  make  out 
Mistress  Kate's  emotions,  nor  in  truth  whether 
she  had  any;  but  just  after  we  were  hailed  by 
the  first  British  sentinel  she  said  to  me  with 
an  affectation  of  lightness,  though  she  could 
not  keep  her  voice  from  sounding  sincere: 

"  My  brother  will  never  forget  what  you 
have  done  for  him,  Dick." 

'*  He  may  or  may  not,"  I  replied,  "  but  I 
hope  your  brother's  sister  will  not." 

Which  may  not  have  been  a  very  gallant 
speech,  but  I  will  leave  it  to  every  just  man 
if  I  had  not  endured  a  good  deal  in  silence. 
She  did  not  take  any  exceptions  to  my  reply, 
but  smiled,  which  I  did  not  know  whether  to 
consider  a  good  or  bad  sign. 

I  showed  a  letter  from  one  of  our  generals  to 


IN  BURGOYNE'S  CAMP. 


99 


the  sentinel,  and  we  were  quickly  passed  through 
the  lines.  We  were  received  by  Captain  Jervis, 
a  British  officer  of  much  politeness,  and  I  ex- 
plained to  him  that  the  two  ladies  whom  I  was 
proud  to  escort  were  the  mother  and  sister  of 
Albert  V^an  Auken,  who  should  be  with  Bur- 
goyne's  army.  He  answered  at  once  that  he 
knew  Albert,  and  had  seen  him  not  an  hour 
before.  Thereat  the  ladies  rejoiced  greatly, 
knowing  that  Albert  was  safe  so  far;  which 
perhaps,  to  my  mind,  was  better  luck  than  he 
deserved.  But  in  ten  minutes  he  was  brought 
to  us,  and  embraced  his  mother  and  sister  with 
great  warmth;   then  shaking  hands  with  me — 

"  I'm  sorry  to  see  you  a  prisoner,  Dick,  my 
lad,''  he  said  easily,  "  especially  after  you've 
been  so  obhging  to  me.  But  it's  your  bad 
luck." 

''  I'm  not  a  prisoner,"  I  replied  with  some 
heat,  "  though  you  and  all  the  rest  of  Bur- 
goyne's  men  are  likely  soon  to  be.  I  merely 
came  here  under  a  flag  of  truce  to  bring  your 
mother  and  sister,  and  put  them  out  of  the  way 
of  cannon  balls."  *  . 

He  laughed  at  my  boast,  and  said  Burgoyne 
would    soon   resume    his    promenade    to    New 


lOO  THE   SUN  OF  SARATOGA. 

York.  Then  he  bestirred  himself  for  the  com- 
fort of  his  mother  and  sister.  He  apologized 
for  straitened  quarters,  but  said  he  could 
place  them  in  some  very  good  company,  includ- 
ing the  Baroness.  Riedesel  and  Madame  the 
wife  of  General  Fraser,  at  which  Madame  Van 
Auken,  who  was  always  fond  of  people  of  qual- 
ity, especially  when  the  quality  was  indicated  by 
a  title,  was  pleased  greatly.  And  in  truth  they 
were  welcomed  most  hospitably  by  the  wives 
of  the  British  and  Hessian  officers  with  Bur- 
goyne's  army,  who  willingly  shared  with  them 
the  scarcity  of  food  and  lodging  they  had  to 
offer.  When  I  left  them,  Mistress  Catherine 
said  to  me  with  a  saucy  curve  of  the  lip,  as  if  she 
would  but  jest: 

''  Take  good  care  of  yourself,  Dick,  and  my 
brother's  sister  will  try  not  to  forget  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  I  said,  "  and  if  it  falls  in  my 
way  to  do  a  good  turn  for  Captain  Chudleigh 
while  he  is  our  prisoner,  I  will  take  full  advan- 
tage of  it." 

At  this  she  was  evidently  displeased,  though 
somehow  I  was  not. 

Albert  Van  Auken  took  charge  of  me,  and 
asked  me  into  a  tent  to  meet  some  of  his  fellow 


IN    BURGOVNE'S   CAMP.  lOi 

officers  and  take  refreshment;   which  invitation  ' 
I  promptly  accepted,  for  in  those  days  an  Ameri- 
can soldier,  with  wisdom  born  of  trial,  never 
neglected  a  chance  to  get  something  good  to 
eat  or  to  drink. 

On  my  way  I  observed  the  condition  of  Bur- 
goyne's  camp.  It  was  in  truth  a  stricken  army 
that  he  led — or  rather  did  not  lead,  for  it  seemed 
now  to  be  stuck  fast.  The  tents  and  the  wagons 
were  filled  with  the  sick  and  the  wounded,  and 
many  not  yet  entirely  well  clustered  upon  the 
grass  seeking  such  consolation  as  they  could 
find  in  the  talk  of  each  other.  The  whole  in 
body,  rank  and  file,  sought  to  preserve  a  gal- 
lant demeanor,  though  in  spite  of  it  a  certain 
depression  was  visible  on  almost  every  face. 
Upon  my  soul  I  was  sorry  for  them,  enemies 
though  they  were,  and  the  greater  their  mis- 
fortune the  greater  cause  we  had  for  joy,  which,  : 
I  take  it,  is  one  of  the  grievous  things  about 
war. 

It  was  a  large  tent  into  which  Albert  took 
me,  and  I  met  there  Captain  Jervis  and  several 
other  officers,  two  or  three  of  whom  seemed 
to  be  of  higher  rank  than  captain,  though  I 
did  not  exactly  catch  their  names,  for  Albert 


I02  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

Spoke  somewhat  indistinctly  when  making  the 
introductions.  There  seemed  to  be  a  degree  of 
comfort  in  the  tent — bottles,  glasses,  and  other 
evidences  of  social  warmth. 

"  We  wish  to  be  hospitable  to  a  gallant 
enemy  like  yourself,  Mr.  Shelby,"  said  Captain 
Jervis,  "  and  are  not  willing  that  you  should 
return  to  your  own  army  without  taking  re- 
freshment with  us." 

I  thanked  him  for  his  courtesy,  and  said  I 
was  quite  willing  to  be  a  live  proof  of  their 
hospitality;  whereupon  they  filled  the  glasses 
with  a  very  unctuous,  fine-flavored  wine,  and  we 
drank  to  the  health  of  the  wide  world.  It  had 
Ijeen  long  since  good  wine  had  passed  my  lips, 
and  when  they  filled  the  glasses  a  second  time 
I  said  in  my  heart  that  they  were  gentlemen. 
At  the  same  time  I  wondered  to  myself  a  bit 
why  officers  of  such  high  rank,  as  some  of  these 
seemed  to  be,  should  pay  so  much  honor  to  me, 
who  was  but  young  and  the  rank  of  whom  was 
but  small.  Yet  I  must  confess  that  this  slight 
wonder  had  no  bad  effect  upon  the  flavor  of  the 
wine. 

Some  eatables  of  a  light  and  delicate  nature 
vvere  handed  around  by  an  orderly,  and  all  of  us 


IN   BURGOYNE'S   CAMP. 


103 


partook,  after  which  we  drank  a  third  glass  of 
wine.  Then  the  officers  talked  most  agreeably 
about  a  variety  of  subjects,  even  including  the 
latest  gossip  they  had  brought  with  them  from 
the  Court  of  St.  James.  Then  we  took  a  fourth 
glass  of  wine.  I  am  not  a  heavy  drinker,  as 
heavy  drinkers  go,  and  have  rather  a  strong 
head,  but  a  humming  of  the  distant  sea  began 
in  my  ears  and  the  talk  moved  far  away.  I 
foresaw  that  Richard  Shelby  had  drunk  enough, 
and  that  it  was  time  for  me  to  exercise  my 
strongest  will  over  his  somewhat  rebellious 
head. 

"  I  suppose  that  you  Americans  are  very 
sanguine  just  now,  and  expect  to  take  our  en- 
tire army,"  said  the  oldest  and  apparently  the 
highest  of  the  officers — colonel  or  general,  some- 
thing or  other — to  me. 

I  noted  that  he  was  overwhelmingly  polite 
in  tone.  Moreover,  my  will  was  acquiring 
masterv  over  Dick  Shelbv's  humming  head. 
I  made  an  ambiguous  reply,  and  he  went 
further  into  thv^  subject  of  the  campaign,  the 
other  officers  joi^nng  him  and  indulging  slight- 
ly in  jest  at  our  expense,  as  if  they  would  lead 
me  on  to  boast.    To  make  a  clean  confession  in 


104 


THE  SUN  OF  SARATOGA. 


the  matter,  I  felt  some  inclination  to  a  little 
vaunting.  He  said  something  about  our  hope 
to  crush  Burgoyne,  and  laughed  as  if  it  were 
quite  impossible. 

*'  English  armies  are  never  taken,"  said  he. 

*'  But  they  have  never  before  warred  with 
the  Americans,"  I  said. 

I  recalled  afterward  that  some  of  the  officers 
applauded  me  for  that  reply,  which  was  strange 
considering  their  sympathies.  The  old  officer 
showed  no  ofifense. 

"  Have  you  heard  that  Sir  Henry  Clinton 
is  coming  to  our  relief  with  five  thousand 
men?  "  he  asked. 

"  No;   have  you?  "  I  replied. 

I  was  applauded  again,  and  the  officer 
laughed. 

*'  You  take  me  up  quickly.  You  have  a  keen 
mind,  Mr.  Shelby;  it's  a  pity  you're  not  one  of 
us,"  he  said. 

*'  That  would  be  bad  for  me,"  I  said,  "  as  I 
do  not  wish  to  become  a  prisoner." 

This  was  a  bit  impertinent  and  ungenerous, 
I  will  admit,  but  I  had  drunk  four  glasses  of 
wine  and  they  were  nagging  me.  They  filled 
up  the  glasses  again,  and  most  of  them  drank, 


IN   BURGOYNE'S  CAMP. 


105 


but  I  only  sipped  mine,  meanwhile  strengthen- 
ing my  rule  over  Dick  Shelby's  mutinous  head. 
The  officer  laughed  easily  at  my  reply  and  be- 
gan to  talk  about  the  chances  of  the  next  battle, 
which  he  was  sure  the  British  would  win.  He 
said  Burgoyne  had  six  thousand  men,  English 
and  Hessians,  and  in  quite  a  careless  way  he 
asked  how  many  we  had. 

By  this  time  I  had  Dick  Shelby's  unruly 
head  under  complete  control,  and  his  question, 
lightly  put  as  it  was,  revealed  their  whole  plan. 
Right  then  and  there  I  felt  a  most  painful  re- 
gret that  I  had  not  given  Albert  Van  Auken  the 
worst  beating  of  his  life  when  I  had  the  chance. 

I  replied  that  I  could  not  say  exactly  how 
manv  men  we  had,  but  the  number  was  some- 
where  between  a  thousand  and  a  million,  and 
at  any  rate  sufficient  for  the  purpose.  He 
laughed  gently  as  if  he  were  willing  to  tolerate 
me,  and  continued  to  put  questions  in  manner 
sly  and  most  insidious.  I  returned  answers 
vague  or  downright  false,  and  I  could  see  that 
the  officer  was  becoming  vexed  at  his  want  of 
success.  Albert  himself  filled  up  my  glass  and 
urged  me  to  drink  again. 

"  You  know,  Dick,  you  don't  get  good  wine 


I06  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

often,"  he  said,  "  and  this  may  be  your  last 
chance." 

Had  not  I  been  a  guest  I  would  have  cre- 
ated, right  then  and  there,  a  second  opportunity 
for  giving  Albert  the  worst  beating  of  his  life. 
I  pretended  to  drink,  though  I  merely  sipped 
the  fumes.  The  elderly  ofificer  changed  his  tac- 
tics a  little. 

"  Do  you  think  your  generals  are  well  in- 
formed about  us?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  replied. 

"How?" 

*'  We  learn  from  prisoners,"  I  said,  "  and 
then,  perhaps,  we  ask  sly  questions  from  Eng- 
lishmen who  come  to  us  under  flags  of  truce." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  he  asked,  his  face 
— and  I  was  glad  to  see  it — reddening. 

'*  I  mean,"  said  I,  ''  that  you  have  brought 
me  into  this  tent  with  purpose  to  intoxicate 
me  and  get  valuable  information  from  me.  It 
was  a  plot  unworthy  of  gentlemen." 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  his  eyes  flashing  with 
much  anger.  But  the  wine  I  had  drunk  made 
me  very  belligerent.  I  was  ready  to  fight  a 
thousand — come  one,  come  all.  Moreover,  I 
leave  it  to  all  if  I  did  not  have  just  cause  for 


IN   BURGOYNE'S  CAMP.  IO7 

wrath.  I  turned  from  the  officer  to  Albert, 
against  whom  my  indignation  burned  most. 

"  I  have  just  saved  you  from  death,  perhaps 
a  most  degrading  death,"  I  said,  *'  and  I  am 
loath  to  remind  you  of  it,  but  I  must,  in  order 
to  tell  your  fellow  officers  I  am  sorry  I  did  it." 

I  never  saw  a  man  turn  redder,  and  he  trem- 
bled all  over.  It  was  the  scarlet  of  shame,  too, 
and  not  of  righteous  anger. 

''  Dick,"  he  said,  '*  I  beg  your  pardon.  I 
let  my  zeal  for  our  cause  go  too  far.     I — I " 

I  think  he  would  have  broken  down,  but 
just  then  the  elderly  officer  interfered. 

"  Be  silent.  Lieutenant  Van  Auken,"  he 
said.  ''  It  is  not  your  fault,  nor  that  of  any  other 
present  except  myself.  You  speak  truth,  Mr. 
Shelby,  when  you  say  it  was  unworthy  of  us. 
So  it  was.  I  am  glad  it  failed,  and  I  apologize 
for  the  effort  to  make  it  a  success.  ^Ir.  Shelby, 
I  am  glad  to  know  you." 

He  held  out  his  hand  with  such  frank  manli- 
ness and  evident  good  will  that  I  grasped  it  and 
shook  it  heartily.  What  more  he  might  have 
said  or  done  I  do  not  know,  for  just  then  we 
were  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  a  great 
though  distant  shouting. 


CHAPTER  VTTT. 

A    XICIIT    UNDER    FIRE. 

The  shouting  begat  curiosity  in  us  all,  and 
we  left  the  tent,  the  elderly  otiiicer  leading.  I 
perceived  at  once  that  the  noise  came  from  our 
lines,  which  were  pushed  up  very  close  to  those 
of  the  British  and  were  within  plain  hearing 
distance.  Among  the  trees  and  bushes,  which 
were  very  dense  at  points,  I  could  see  in  the 
brilliant  sunshine  the  flash  of  rifle  barrel  and 
the  gleam  of  uniform.  The  shouting  was  great 
in  volume,  swellinir  like  a  torrent  risino^  to  the 
flood. 

I  remained  by  the  side  of  the  old  ofiflcer.  He 
seemed  anxious. 

"What  is  it?  What  can  that  mean?  It 
must  be  something  important,"  he  asked  as 
much  of  himself  as  of  me. 

The  reply  was  ready  for  him,  as  some  Eng- 
lish skirmishers  came  forward  with  an  American 

1 08 


A   NIGHT    UNDER    FIRK.  lOo 

prisoner  whom  they  had  taken  l)nt  a  few  mo- 
ments before.  The  man  was  but  a  common 
soldier,  rag^ged,  but  intelHgent.  The  officer  put 
to  him  his  question  about  the  shouting,  which 
had  not  yet  sul)side(l. 

"  Tliat  was  a  welcome,"  said  the  prisoner. 

'*  A  welcome!    What  do  you  mean  by  that?  " 

'■  Simply  that  more  re-enforcements  have 
come  from  the  south." 

The  officer  grew  even  graver. 

**  More  men  always  coming  for  them  and 
never  any  for  us,"  he  said,  almost  under  his 
breath. 

I  had  it  in  mind  to  suggest  that  I  be  re- 
turned at  once  to  my  own  army,  but  the  arrival 
of  the  troops  or  other  cause  created  a  sudden 
recrudescence  of  the  skirmishing.  Piff-pafY 
chanted  the  rifles;  zip-zip  chirped  the  bullets. 
Little  blades  of  tiame  spurted  up  among  the 
bushes,  and  above  them  rose  the  white  curls  of 
smoke  like  baby  clouds.  On  both  sides  the 
riflemen  were  at  work. 

The  officer  looked  about  him  as  if  he  in- 
tended to  give  some  special  orders,  and  then 
seemed  to  think  better  of  it.  A  bullet  passed 
through  the  tent  we  had  just  left.     1  felt  that 


no  THE  SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 

my  American  uniform  took  me  out  of  the  list 
of  targets. 

**  Your  sharpshooters  seem  to  have  come 
closer,"  said  the  officer.  "  Their  bullets  fell 
short  this  morning.  I  will  admit  they  are  good 
men  with  the  ritle — better  than  ours." 

"  These  are  countrymen,"  I  said.  '*  They 
have  been  trained  through  boyhood  to  the  use 
of  the  rifle." 

I  was  looking  at  the  fringe  of  trees  and 
bushes  which  half  hid  our  lines.  Amid  the 
boughs  of  a  tall  tree  whose  foliage  was  yet  un- 
touched by  autumn  I  saw  what  I  took  to  be 
a  man's  figure;  but  the  leaves  were  so  dense 
and  so  green  I  was  not  sure.  ^Moreover,  the 
man,  if  man  it  was,  seemed  to  wear  clothing  of 
the  hue  of  the  leaves.  I  decided  I  was  mis- 
taken; then  I  knew  I  had  been  right  at  first 
guess,  for  I  saw  the  green  body  within  the  green 
curtain  of  leaves  move  out  upon  a  bough  and 
raise  its  head  a  little.  The  sun  flashed  upon  a 
rifle  barrel,  and  the  next  instant  the  familiar 
curl  of  white  smoke  rose  from  its  muzzle. 

The  officer  had  opened  his  mouth  to  speak 
to  me,  but  the  words  remained  unspoken.  His 
face  went  pale  as  if  all  the  blood  had  suddenly 


A  NIGHT   UNDER   FIRE.  I  i  i 

gone  out  of  him,  and  he  flopped  down  like  an 
emptied  bag  at  my  feet,  shot  through  the  heart. 

I  was  seized  with  a  shivering  horror.  He 
was  talking  to  me  one  moment  and  dead  the 
next.  His  fall,  seen  by  so  many,  created  a  con- 
fusion in  the  British  lines.  Several  rushed  for- 
ward to  seize  the  bodv  and  carrv  it  awav.  Just 
as  the  first  man  reached  it,  he  too  was  slain  by 
a  hidden  sharpshooter,  and  the  two  bodies  lay 
side  by  side. 

Acting  from  impulse  rather  than  thought, 
I  lifted  the  ofHicer  bv  the  shoulders  and  befjan 
to  drag  him  back  into  the  camp.  Whether  or 
not  my  uniform  protected  me  I  can  not  say, 
but  I  was  hit  bv  no  bullet,  thouc^h  the  skirmish- 
ing  became  so  sharp  and  so  hot  that  it  rose  al- 
most to  the  dignity  of  a  battle.  The  officer's 
body  was  withdrawn  beyond  the  range  of  the 
sharpshooting  and  placed  in  a  tent.  Though 
he  had  sought  to  entrap  me  he  had  made  hand- 
some apology  therefor,  and  I  mourned  him  as 
I  would  a  friend.  Why  should  men  filled  with 
mutual  respect  be  compelled  to  shoot  each 
other?  . 

Albert  came  to  me  there,  and  said  in  a  very 
cold  voice: 


112  THE    SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

"  Dick,  this  sudden  outburst  will  compel 
you  to  remain  our  guest  some  time  longer — 
perhaps  through  the  night." 

I  turned  my  back  upon  him,  and  when  he 
left  I  do  not  know,  but  when  I  looked  that 
w'ay  again  he  was  gone,  for  which  I  was  in 
truth  very  glad.  Yet  I  would  have  liked  to 
ask  him  about  Kate  and  her  mother.  I  won- 
dered if  they  were  safe  from  the  stray  bullets 
of  the  sharpshooters. 

In  the  stir  of  this  strife  at  long  range  I 
seemed  to  be  forgotten  by  the  British,  as  I  had 
been  forgotten  by  my  own  people.  ^ly  Con- 
tinental uniform  was  none  of  the  brightest,  and 
even  those  who  noticed  it  apparently  took  me 
for  a  privileged  prisoner.  When  1  left  the  tent 
in  which  the  ofBcer's  body  lay  I  came  back 
toward  the  American  army,  but  the  patter  of 
the  bullets  "rew'  so  livelv  around  me  that  I 
retreated.  It  is  bad  enough  to  be  killed  by  an 
enemy,  I  imagine,  but  still  worse  to  be  killed 
by  a  friend. 

The  day  was  growing  old  and  the  night  would 
soon  be  at  hand.  Our  sharpshooters  held  such 
good  positions  that  they  swept  most  of  the 
British  camp.     I  do  not  claim  to  be  a  great 


A   NIGHT    UNDER    FIRE. 


113 


military  man,  but  I  was  convinced  that  if  the 
British  did  not  dislodge  these  sharpshooters 
their  position  would  become  untenable.  The 
night,  so  far  from  serving-  them,  would  rather  be 
a  benefit  to  their  enemies,  for  the  lights  in  the 
British  camp  would  guide  the  bullets  of  the 
hidden  riflemen  to  their  targets. 

The  bustle  in  the  camp  increased,  and  I  ob- 
served that  details  of  men  were  sent  to  the 
front.  They  took  off  their  bright  coats,  which 
were  fine  marks  for  the  riflemen,  and  it  was 
evident  that  they  intended  to  match  our  sharp- 
shooters at  their  own  business.  ^lany  of  these 
men  were  Germans,  who,  I  have  heard,  have 
alwavs  been  accounted  g-ood  marksmen  in  Eu- 
rope. 

Nobody  caring  about  me,  I  took  position  on 
a  little  knoll  where  I  could  see  and  yet  be  beyond 
range.  The  sun,  as  if  wishing  to  do  his  best 
before  going  down,  was  shining  with  marvelous 
brilliancy.  The  incessant  pit-pat  of  the  rifle  fire, 
like  the  crackling  of  hail,  drew  all  eyes  toward 
the  American  line.  It  seemed  to  me  that  only 
the  speedy  coming  of  the  night  could  prevent 
a  great  battle. 

The  crackling  flared  up  suddenly  into  a  vol- 


114 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


ley,  betokening  the  arrival  of  the  fresh  British 
skirmishers  at  the  point  of  action.  The  little 
white  curls  of  smoke  were  gathering  together 
and  forming  a  great  cloud  overhead.  Present- 
ly some  wounded  were  taken  past. 

There  was  a  movement  and  "•atherincr  of 
men  near  me.  Quite  a  bodv  of  soldiers,  a  com- 
pany,  it  seemed,  were  drawn  up.  Then,  with 
fixed  bayonets,  they  advanced  upon  the  Ameri- 
can line.  I  guessed  that  the  skirmishers  were 
intended  to  attract  the  attention  of  our  peo- 
ple, while  this  company  hoped  to  clear  the 
woods  of  the  sharpshooters  and  release  the 
British  camp  from  their  galling  fire.  The 
British  advanced  with  gallantry.  I  give 
them  credit  for  that  always — that  is,  nearly 
always. 

The  firing  had  reached  an  exceeding  degree 
of  activity,  but  I  did  not  see  any  man  in  the 
company  fall.  By  this  I  concluded  that  their 
skirmishers  were  keeping  our  own  busy,  and  I 
was  in  some  apprehension  lest  this  strong  squad 
should  fall  suddenly  and  with  much  force  upon 
our  outposts.  Forward  they  went  at  a  most  live- 
ly pace  and  preserving  a  very  even  rank,  their 
bayonets  shining  brightly  in  the  late  sun.    The 


A  NIGHT   UNDER   FIRE. 


115 


British  boast  much  a1)out  their  abihty  with 
the  ba\onet.  We  know  less  al)out  ours,  be- 
cause almost  our  only  way  of  getting  bayonets 
was  to  take  them  from  the  British,  which  we 
did  more  than  once. 

Two  or  three  British  officers  gathered  on 
the  knoll  to  watch  the  movement.  Among 
these  was  Captain  Jervis,  whom  I  liked  well. 
He  spoke  pleasantly  to  me,  and  said,  pointing 
at  the  company  whicli  was  now  very  near  to 
the  wood: 

"  That  charge,  I  think,  is  going  to  be  a  suc- 
cess, Mr.  Shelby,  and  your  sharpshooters  will 
find  it  more  comfortable  to  keep  a  little  far- 
ther awav  from  us." 

He  spoke  with  a  certain  pride,  as  if  he  would 
hold  our  people  a  little  more  cheaply  than  his 
(uvn. 

I  made  no  reply,  for  another  and  better 
answer  from  a  different  source  was  readv.  There 
was  a  very  vivid  blaze  from  the  wood  and  the 
crash  of  a  heavy  volley.  The  head  of  the  col- 
umn was  shattered,  nay,  crushed,  and  the  body 
of  it  reeled  like  a  man  to  whom  has  been  dealt 
a  stunning  blow.  It  was  apparent  that  our 
people  had  seen  the  movement  and  had  gath- 


Il6  THE   SUN    OF    SARATOGA. 

ered  in  force  in  the  wood  to  repel  it.  striking  at 
the  proper  moment. 

The  company  ralHed  and  advanced  most 
bravely  a  second  time  to  the  charge;  bnt  the 
flash  of  the  riiles  was  so  steady  and  so  fast  that 
the  woods  seemed  to  he  s])outing  tire.  The 
British  fell  back  cjuickly  and  then  broke  into 
a  discreet  run  into  their  own  encampment. 

'*  You  will  perceive,"  said  I  to  Captain  Jer- 
vis,  •'  that  our  people  have  not  yet  retired  for 
the  night." 

He  laughed  a  little,  though  on  the  wrong 
side  of  his  mouth.  I  could  see  that  he  felt 
chagrin,  and  so  I  said  no  more  on  that  point. 

As  if  by  concert  our  sharpshooters  also 
pushed  up  closer,  and  being  so  much  better  at 
that  business  drove  in  ^hose  of  Burgoyne. 
The  Germans,  in  particular,  knowing  but  little 
of  forests,  fared  badly. 

Though  I  was  neither  in  it  nor  of  it,  1  felt 
much  elation  at  our  little  triumph.  In  truth 
the  consequences,  if  not  important  of  them- 
selves, were  significant  of  greater  things.  They 
showed  that  Burgoyne's  beleaguered  battalions 
could  rest  hope  only  on  two  things,  the  arrival 
of  Clinton  or  victory  in  a  pitched  battle.     But 


A   NU;HT    UNDER   FIRE. 


117 


now  Burgoyne  could  not  even  protect  his  own 
camp.  It  was  readied  in  many  par.s  by  the  fire 
of  the  sharpshooters  drawn  in  a  deadly  ring 
around  it.  The  night  came,  and  as  far  as  pos- 
sible the  lights  in  the  camp  were  put  out,  but 
the  firing  went  on,  and  no  British  sentinel  was 
safe  at  his  post. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

MY    GUIDE. 

I  remember  no  night  in  which  I  saw  more 
misery.  The  sharpshooters  never  slept,  and  the 
dark  seemed  to  profit  them  as  much  as  the  day. 
They  enveloped  the  British  camp  like  a  swarm 
of  unseen  bees,  all  the  more  deadly  l^ecause 
no  man  knew  where  they  hovered  nor  whence 
nor  when  the  sting  would  come.  ^len  brave 
in  the  day  are  less  brave  at  night,  and  every 
British  officer  I  saw  looked  worn,  and  fearful  of 
the  future.  1  confess  that  I  began  to  grow 
anxious  on  my  own  account,  for  in  this  dark- 
ness my  old  Continentals  could  not  serve  as 
a  warning  that  I  was  no  proper  target.  I  have 
always  preserved  a  high  regard  for  the  health 
and  welfare  of  Richard  Shelby,  Esq.,  and  I  with- 
drew him  farther  into  the  camp.  There  I  saw 
many  wounded  and  more  sick,  and  but  scant 

means  for  their  treatment.     Moreover,  the  list 

ii8 


MY  GUIDE. 


119 


of  both  was  increasing-,  and  even  as  I  wandered 
about,  the  fresh-wounded  were  taken  past  me, 
sometimes  cryini^  out  in  their  pain. 

There  were  many  who  took  no  part  in  the 
fiCfhtinc: — Tories  who  had  come  to  the  British 
camp  with  their  wives  and  Httle  children,  and 
the  wives  of  the  Enghsh  and  Hessian  officers 
who  had  come  down  from  Canada  with  them, 
expecting  a  march  of  glory  and  triumph  to 
New  York.  For  these  I  felt  most  sorrow,  as  it 
is  very  cruel  that  women  and  children  should 
have  to  look  upon  war.  ]\Iore  than  once  T 
heard  the  lamentations  of  women  and  the 
frightened  weeping  of  little  children.  Some- 
times the  flaring  torches  showed  me  their  scared 
faces.  These  non-combatants,  in  truth,  were 
beyond  the  range  of  the  fire,  but  the  wounded 
men  were  always  before  them. 

It  was  but  natural  that  amid  so  much  tumult 
and  suspense  I  should  remain  forgotten,  ^ly 
uniform,  dingy  in  the  brightest  sun,  was  scarce 
noticeable  in  the  half-lit  dusk,  and  I  wandered 
about  the  camp  almost  at  will.  The  night  \\as 
not  old  before  I  noticed  the  bustle  of  great 
preparations.  Officers  hurried  about  as  if  time 
of  a  sudden  had  doubled  its  value.      Soldiers 


I20  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

very  anxiously  examined  their  muskets  and 
bayonets:  cannon  were  wheeled  into  more  com- 
pact batteries;  more  ammunition  was  gathered 
at  convenient  points.  On  all  faces  1  saw  ex- 
])ectation. 

I  thought  at  first  that  some  night  skirmish 
was  intended,  but  the  bustle  and  the  hur- 
rying extended  too  much  for  that.  I  set 
about  more  thorough  explorations,  and  it 
was  easy  enough  to  gather  that  Burgovne 
intended  to  risk  all  in  a  pitched  battle  on 
the  morrow.  These  were  the  preparations 
for  it. 

Curiosity  had  taken  away  from  me,  for  the 
moment,  the  desire  to  go  back  to  my  own 
])eople,  but  now  it  returned  with  double  force. 
It  was  not  likelv  that  mv  warning  of  the  com- 
ing-  battle  could  be  of  much  value,  for  our  forces 
were  vigilant :  but  T  had  the  natural  desire  of 
youth  to  ])e  with  our  own  army,  and  not  with 
that  of  the  enemy,  at  the  comii;g  oi  such  a  great 
event. 

But  the  chance  for  my  return  looked  ver}- 
doubtfid.  Both  armies  were  too  busy  to  pay 
heed  to  a  flag  of  truce  even  if  it  could  be  seen 
in  the  night. 


MY   GUIDE.  121 

T  wandered  ahoiil  lookini^:  for  some  means 
of  escape  to  our  own  lines,  and  in  seeking  to 
reach  the  other  side  of  the  camp  passed  once 
more  throui^h  the  space  in  which  the  women 
and  chihiren  lay.  I  saw  a  little  one-roomed 
liouse.  abandoned  long  since  by  its  owners.  The 
uncertain  light  from  the  window  fought  with 
the  shadows  outside. 

I  stepped  to  the  window,  which  was  open, 
and  looked  in.  They  had  turned  the  place  into 
a  hos])ital.  A  doctor  with  sharp  instruments 
in  his  hand  was  at  work.  A  woman  with  strong 
white  arms,  bare  almost  to  the  shoulder,  was 
helping  him.  She  turned  away  presently,  her 
help  not  needed  just  then,  and  saw  my  face  at 
the  window. 

"  Dick,"  she  said  in  a  tone  low,  but  not  too 
low  to  express  surprise,  "  why  haven't  you  re- 
turned to  the  army?  " 

"  Because  I  can't,  Kate,"  I  said.  "  My  tlag 
of  truce  is  forgotten,  and  the  bullets  are  flying 
too  fast  through  the  dark  for  me  to  make  a  dash 
tor  it." 

"  There  should  be  a  way." 

"  Maybe,  l-iii  1  haven't  found  it." 

"  Albert  ought  to  help  you." 


122  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

"  There  are  many  things  Albert  ought  to 
do  which  he  doesn't  do,"  I  said. 

"  Don't  think  too  badly  of  him." 

"  I  think  I'll  try  to  escape  through  the  far 
side  of  the  camp,"  I  said,  nodding  my  head  in 
the  way  I  meant  to  go. 

"  We  owe  you  much,  Dick,  for  what  you 
have  done  for  us,"  she  said,  "  and  we  wish  you 
safety  on  that  account,  and  more  so  on  vour 
own  account." 

She  put  her  hand  out  of  the  window  and  I 
squeezed  it  a  little. 

Perhaps  that  was  Chudleigh's  exclusive 
right. 

But  she  did  not  complain,  and  Chudleigh 
knew  nothing  about  it. 

The  British  camp  was  surrounded,  but  on 
the  side  to  which  I  was  now  coming  the  fire 
of  the  sharpshooters  was  more  intermittent.  It 
w'as  the  strongest  part  of  the  British  lines,  but 
I  trusted  that  on  such  account  the  way  for  m\ 
escape  would  be  more  open  there.  At  night, 
wdth  so  much  confusion  about,  it  would  not  be 
easy  to  guard  every  foot  of  ground.  I  walked 
very  slowly  until  I  came  almost  to  the  out- 
skirts of  the  camp;   then  I  stopped  to  consider. 


MY  GUIDE. 


123 


In  the  part  of  the  camp  where  I  stood  it  was 
very  dark.  Some  torches  were  burning  in  a 
half-hearted  fashion  forty  or  fifty  feet  away,  but 
their  own  lic:ht  onlv  made  the  dusk  around  me 
tlie  deeper.  I  was  endeavoring  to  select  the 
exact  point  at  which  I  would  seek  to  pass  the 
lines,  when  some  one  touched  me  with  light 
hand  upon  the  shoulder. 

I  turned  my  head  and  saw  Albert  Van 
.Vuken,  clad  in  the  same  cloak  he  wore  the  night 
he  tried  to  counterfeit  his  sister.  I  was  about 
to  walk  away,  for  I  still  felt  much  anger  toward 
him,  when  he  touched  me  again  with  light 
hand,  and  said  in  such  a  low  voice  that  I  could 
scarce  hear: 

"  I  am  going  to  pay  you  back,  at  least  in 
part,  Dick.    I  will  help  you  to  escape.    Come!  " 

Well,  I  was  glad  that  he  felt  shame  at  last 
for  the  way  in  which  he  had  acted.  It  had  taken 
him  a  long  time  to  learn  that  he  owed  me  any- 
thing. But  much  of  my  wrath  against  him  de- 
parted. It  was  too  dark  for  me  to  see  the 
expression  of  shame  which  I  knew  must  be 
inprinted  upon  his  face,  but  on  his  account  I 
was  not  sorry  that  I  could  not  see  it. 

He  led  the  way,  stepping  very  lightly,  to- 
9      . 


124  lllK    SUN    OF   SARATOGA. 

ward  a  row  of  Ija^'i^age  wai^oiis  which  seemed 
lo  have  been  drawn  up  as  a  sort  of  fortihcalion. 
It  looked  like  a  solid  line,  and  1  wondered  if  he 
would  attempt  to  crawl  under  them,  but  when 
we  came  nearer  1  saw  an  open  space  of  half  a 
yard  or  so  between  two  of  them.  Albert  slipj)ed 
throui^h  this  crack  without  a  word,  and  I  fol- 
lowed. On  the  other  siile  he  stopped  for  a  few 
moments  in  the  shadow  of  the  wagons,  and  I, 
of  course,  imitated  him.  » 

1  could  see  sentinels  to  the  right  and  to  the 
left  of  us.  walking  about  as  if  on  beats.  On  the 
hills,  not  so  very  far  from  us,  the  camp-fires 
of  the  American  army  were  burning. 

I  perceived  that  it  was  a  time  for  silence, 
and  I  waited  for  .Vlbert  to  be  leader,  as  perhaps 
knowing  the  ground  better  than  1.  A  moment 
came  presently  when  all  the  sentinels  were  some- 
what distant  from  us.  lie  stepped  forward 
with  most  marvelous  lightness,  and  in  a  few- 
breaths  we  were  beyond  the  line  of  the  sentinels. 
I  thought  there  was  little  further  danger,  and 
I  was  much  rejoiced,  both  because  of  my  escape 
and  because  it  was  Albert  who  had  done  such  a 
great  service  for  me. 

**  I  trust  you  will  forgive  me,  Albert,  for 


ii 


MY   (lUIDE.  125 

some  of  the  hard  words  1  spoke  to  you,"  I  said. 
"  Remember  that  1  spoke  in  anther  and  witli- 
out  hill  knowled^'-e  of  voii." 

Ylt  put  his  hugers  upon  his  hps  as  a  sign 
tor  me  to  be  silent,  and  continued  straight  ahead 
toward  the  American  army.  1  followed.  Some 
shots  were  fired,  but  we  were  in  a  sort  of  de- 
pression, and  I  had  full  confidence  they  were 
not  intended  for  us,  but  were  drawn  by  the 
lights  in  the  British  camp.  Vet  I  believed 
that  Albert  had  gone  far  enough.  He  had 
shown  me  the  way,  and  no  more  was  needed. 
1  did  not  wish  him  to  expose  himself  to  our 
bullets. 

*'  Go  back,  Albert,"  1  said.  "  1  know  the 
way  now,  and  1  do  not  wish  you  to  become  our 
prisoner." 

He  would  not  pause  until  we  had  gone  a  rod 
farther.  Then  he  pointed  toward  our  camp- 
fires  ahead,  and  turned  about  as  if  he  would  go 
back. 

''  Albert,"  I  said,  "  let  us  forget  what  1  said 
|\vlien  in  anger,  and  part  friends." 

I  seized  his  hand  in  my  grasp,  though  he 
Isonght  to  evade  me.  The  hand  was  small  and 
[warm,  and  then  1  knew  that  the  deception  Al- 


126  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOG.\. 

bert  had  practiced  upon  me  a  night  or  so  before 
had  enabled  Albert's  sister  to  do  the  same. 

''  Kate!  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Why  have  you 
done  this?  " 

*'  For  you,"  said  she,  snatching  her  hand 
from  mine  and  fleeing  so  swiftly  toward  the 
British  camp  that  I  could  not  stop  her. 

In  truth  I  did  not  follow  her,  but  mused 
for  a  moment  on  the  great  change  a  slouch 
hat,  a  long  cloak,  and  a  pair  of  cavalry  boots 
can  make  in  one's  appearance  on  a  dark 
night. 

As  I  stood  in  the  dark  and  she  was  going 
toward  the  light,  I  could  watch  her  figure.  1 
saw  her  pass  between  the  wagons  again  and 
knew  that  she  was  safe.  Then  I  addressed  my- 
self to  my  own  task. 

I  stood  in  a  depression  of  the  ground,  and 
on  the  hills,  some  hundreds  of  yards  before  me. 
our  camp-fires  glimmered.  The  firing  on  this 
side  was  so  infrequent  that  it  was  often  sev- 
eral minutes  between  shots.  All  the  bullets, 
whether  British  or  American,  passed  high  over 
my  head,  for  which  I  was  truly  glad. 

I  made  very  good  progress  toward  our  lines, 
until  I  heard  ahead  of  me  a  slight  noise  as  of 


MY  GUIDE. 


127 


some  one  moving  about.  I  presumed  that  it 
was  one  of  our  sharpshooters,  and  was  about  to 
call  gently,  telling  him  who  I  was.  I  was  right 
in  my  presumption,  but  not  quick  enough  with 
my  hail,  for  his  riile  was  fired  so  close  to  me 
that  the  blaze  of  the  exploding  powder  seemed 
to  leap  at  me.  That  the  bullet  in  truth  was 
aimed  at  me  there  was  no  doubt,  for  I  felt  its 
passage  so  near  my  face  that  it  made  me  turn 
quite  cold  and  shiver. 

"  Hold!      I  am  a  friend!  "  I  shouted. 

"  Shoot  the  damned  British  spy!  Don't  let 
him  get  away!  "  cried  the  sharpshooter. 

Two  or  three  other  sharpshooters,  taking 
him  at  his  w^ord,  fired  at  my  figure  faintly  seen 
in  the  darkness.  None  hit  me,  but  I  was  seized 
with  a  sudden  and  great  feeling  of  discomfort. 
Seeing  that  it  was  not  a  time  for  explanations, 
I  turned  and  ran  back  in  the  other  direction. 
One  more  shot  was  fired  at  me  as  I  ran,  and  I 
was  truly  thankful  that  I  was  a  swift  runner 
and  a  poor  target. 

In  a  few  moments  I  was  beyond  the  line  of 
their  fire,  and,  rejoicing  over  my  escape  from 
present  dangers,  was  meditating  how^  to  escape 
from  those  of  the  future,  when  a  shot  was  fired 


128  1'HE   SUN   OF   .SARATOGA. 

from  a  new  point  of  the  compass,  and  some 
one  cried  out : 

"  Shoot  him,  the  Yankee  spy!  the  damned 
rebel!    Don't  let  him  escape!" 

And  in  good  truth  those  to  whom  lie  spoke 
this  violent  command  obeyed  with  most  alarm- 
ing promptness,  for  several  nuiskets  were  dis- 
charged instantly  and  the  bullets  Hew  about 
me. 

I  turned  back  with  surprising  (piickness  and 
fled  toward  the  American  camp,  more  shots  pur- 
suing me,  but  fortune  again  saving  me  from 
their  sting.  I  could  hear  the  Englishmen  re- 
peating their  cries  to  each  other  not  to  let  the 
rebel  spy  escape.  Then  I  bethought  me  it  was 
time  to  stop,  or  in  a  moment  or  two  1  would 
hear  the  Americans  shouting  to  each  other  not 
to  let  the  infernal  British  spy  escape.  I  recog- 
nized the  very  doubtful  nature  of  my  position. 
It  seemed  as  if  both  the  British  and  American 
armies,  horse  and  foot,  had  quit  their  legitimate 
business  of  fighting  each  other  and  had  gone 
to  hunting  me,  a  humble  subaltern,  who  asked 
nothing  of  either  just  then  but  personal  safety. 
Was  I  to  dance  back  and  forth  between  them 
forever?  • 


MY  GUIDK. 


129 


Some  lightning  thoughts  passed  through  my 
mind,  but  none  offered  a  sohition  of  my  prol)- 
lem.  Chance  was  kinder.  I  stumbled  on  a 
stone,  and  flat  I  fell  in  a  little  gully.  There  1 
concluded  to  stay  for  the  while.  "I  pressed  very 
close  against  the  earth  and  listened  to  a  rapid 
tlischarge  of  rifles  and  muskets.  Then  I  per- 
ceived that  I  had  revenge  upon  them  both,  for 
in  their  mutual  chase  of  me  the  British  and 
American  skirmishers  had  come  much  closer 
together,  and  were  now  engaged  in  their  proper 
vocation  of  shooting  at  each  other  instead  of 
at  me. 

I.  the  unhappy  cause  of  it  all.  lay  quite  still, 
and  showered  thanks  upon  that  kindly  little 
cjullv  for  cfcttini:-  in  mv  wav  and  receiving;  mv 
falling  body  at  such  an  op])ortune  moment. 
The  bullets  were  flying  very  fast  over  ni}-  head, 
l)ut  unless  some  fool  shot  at  the  earth  instead  of 
at  a  man  1  was  safe.  The  thought  that  there 
might  be  some  such  fool  made  me  shiver.  Had  I 
l)<)ssesse(l  the  power.  1  would  have  burrowed  my 
way  through  the  earth  to  the  otlier  side,  which 
they  say  is  China. 

It  was  the  battle  of  Blenheim,  at  least,  that 
5«cemed  to  be  waged  at  the  back  of  my  head, 


I30  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

for  my  nose  was  pressed  into  the  earth  and  my 
imagination  lent  much  aid  to  facts.  I  seemed 
to  cower  there  for  hours,  and  then  one  side 
began  to  retreat.  It  was  the  British,  the  Ameri- 
cans, I  suppose,  being  in  stronger  force  and 
also  more  skillful  at  this  kind  of  warfare.  The 
diminishing  fire  swept  back  toward  the  British 
lines  and  then  died  out  like  a  languid  blaze. 

I  heard  the  tramp  of  feet,  and  a  heavy  man 
with  a  large  foot  stepped  squarely  upon  my 
back. 

**  Hello!  "  said  the  owner.  "  Here's  one,  at 
least,  that  we've  brought  down!  " 

*'  English,  or  Hessian?  "  asked  another. 

'*  Can't  tell,"  said  the  first.  "  He's  lying  on 
his  face,  and,  be;>ides,  he's  half  buried  in  a  gully. 
We'll  let  him  stay  here;  I  guess  this  gully  will 
do  for  his  grave." 

"  No,  it  won't,  Whitestone!  "  said  I,  sitting 
up.  "  When  the  right  time  comes  for  me  to 
be  buried  I  want  a  grave  deeper  than  this." 

"  Good  Lord!  is  it  you,  Mr.  Shelby?  "  ex- 
claimed Whitestone,  in  surprise  and  genuine 
gladness. 

'*  Yes,  it  is  I,"  I  replied,  ''  and  in  pretty 
sound   condition   too,   when  you   consider  the 


MY  GUIDE.  131 

fact  that  all  the  British  and  American  soldiers 
in  the  province  of  New  York  have  been  firing 
point-blank  at  me  for  the  last  two  hours." 

Then  I  described  my  tribulations,  and 
Whitestone,  saying  I  should  deem  myself  lucky 
to  have  fared  so  well,  went  with  me  to  our 
camp. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    SUN    OF    SARATOGA. 

Dan,2^crs  and  troubles  past  have  never  pre- 
vented me  from  sleeping  well  and  when  I  awoke 
the  next  morning  it  was  with  W'hitestone  pull- 
ing at  my  shoulder. 

"  This  is  the  third  shake,''  said  he. 

"  But  the  last,"  said  I.  getting  up  and  rub- 
bing my  eyes. 

I  have  seldom  seen  a  finer  morning.  The 
fresh  crispness  of  early  October  ran  through  the 
brilliant  sunshine.  The  earth  was  bathed  in 
light.  It  was  such  a  sim  as  I  have  lieard  rose 
on  the  morning  of  the  great  battle  of  Auster- 
litz.  fouijht  but  recentlv.  A  li^'ht  wind  blew 
from  the  west.    The  blood  bubbled  in  my  veins. 

"  It's  lucky  that  so  many  of  us  should  have 

such   a  fine   day   for  leaving   the   world,"   said 

^^llitestone. 

The  battle,  the  final  struggle  for  which  wc 

132 


THE  SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


^33 


liad  been  looking  so  long,  was  at  hand.  1  liad 
not  mistaken  the  preparations  in  the  British 
camp  the  night  before. 

I  have  had  my  share,  more  or  less  humble,  in 
various  campaigns  and  combats.  l)ut  I  have 
not  seen  any  other  battle  begun  with  so  much 
deliberation  as  on  that  morning.  In  truth  all 
whom  I  could  see  appeared  to  be  calm.  .\  man 
is  sometimes  very  brave  and  sometimes  much 
afraid — I  do  not  know  why — but  that  day  the 
braver  part  of  me  was  master. 

Wq  were  ready  and  waiting  to  see  what  the 
British  would  do,  when  Burgoyne,  with  his 
picked  veterans,  came  out  of  his  intrenchments 
and  challenged  us  to  battle,  much  as  the  knights 
of  the  old  time  used  to  invite  one  another  to 
combat. 

They  were  not  so  many  as  we — we  have 
never  made  that  claim:  but  they  made  a  most 
gallant  show,  all  armed  in  the  noble  style  with 
which  Britain  equips  her  troops,  particularly  the 
bayonets,  of  which  we  have  had  but  few  in  the 
best  of  times,  and  none,  most  often. 

They  sat  down  in  close  rank  on  the  hillside, 
as  if  they  were  quite  content  with  what  we 
might  do  or  try  to  do,  whatever  it  might  be. 


134 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


I  have  heard  many  say  it  was  this  vaunting  over 
us  that  chiclly  caused  the  war. 

The  meaning-  of  the  British  was  evident  to 
us  aU.  If  this  picked  force  could  hold  its  own 
against  our  attack,  the  remainder  of  their  army 
would  be  brought  up  and  an  attempt  to  inflict 
a  crushing  defeat  upon  us  would  be  made;  if 
it  could  not  hold  its  own,  it  would  retreat  into 
the  intrenchments,  where  the  whole  British 
army  would  defend  itself  at  vantage. 

Farther  back  in  the  breastworks  I  could  see 
the  British  gazing  out  at  their  chosen  force  and 
at  us.  I  even  imagined  that  I  could  see  women 
looking  over,  and  thai  perhaps  Kate  Van  Au- 
ken  was  one  of  them.  I  say  again,  how  like  it 
was  in  preparation  and  manner  to  one  of  the 
old  tournaments!    Perhaps  it  was  but  my  fancy. 

There  was  no  movement  in  our  lines.  So 
far  as  we  could  judge  just  then,  we  were  mere- 
ly looking  on,  as  if  it  were  no  affair  of  ours.  In 
the  British  force  some  one  played  a  tune  on  a 
fife  which  sounded  to  me  like  "  \\^on't  vou 
dare? " 

"  Why  did  we  take  so  much  care  to  hem 
them  in  and  then  refuse  to  fight  them?  "  asked 
I  impatiently  of  Whitestone. 


THE   SUN   OF  SARATOGA.  1 35 

**  What  time  o'  clay  is  it?"  asked  White- 
stone. 

'*  I  don't  know,"  I  replied,  **  but  it's  early." 

"  I  never  answer  such  questions  before  sun- 
down," said  Whitestone. 

Content  with  his  inipoHte  but  wise  reply, 
I  asked  no  more,  noticinj^  at  times  the  red 
squares  of  the  British,  and  at  other  times  the 
dazzhng  circle  of  the  red  sun. 

Suddenly  the  British  began  to  move.  They 
came  on  in  most  steadv  manner,  their  fme  order 
maintained. 

"Good!"  said  Whitestone.  '' Thev  mean 
to  turn  our  left." 

We  were  on  the  left,  which  might  be  good 
or  bad.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  perceived  that  our 
waiting  was  over.  I  do  not  think  we  felt  any 
apprehension.  We  were  in  strong  force,  and  we 
New  Yorkers  were  on  the  left,  and  beside  us 
our  brethren  of  New  England,  very  strenuous 
men.  We  did  not  fear  the  British  bavonet 
of  wdiich  our  enemies  boast  so  much.  While 
we  watched  their  advance,  I  said  to  White- 
stone: 

"  I  will  not  ask  that  question  again  before 
sundowm." 


136  TIIK    SUN    OF    SARATOCrA. 

■'  I  trust  that  you  will  he  ahle  to  ask  it  then, 
aud  I  to  answer  it,"  replied  he. 

Which  was  a])Out  as  solenm  as  W'hitestone 
ever  became. 

Looking-  steadily  at  the  British.  I  saw  a  man 
in  their  front  rank  fall,  -\lmost  at  the  same 
time  1  heard  the  report  of  a  ritle  just  in  front 
of  us,  and  1  knew  that  one  of  oiu'  sharpshooters 
had  opened  the  battle. 

This  shot  was  like  a  signal.  The  sharp 
crackling  sound  ran  along  the  grass  like  fire  in 
a  forest,  and  more  men  fell  in  the  I>ritish  lines. 
Their  own  skirmishers  rej)lied.  and  while  the 
smoke  was  yet  but  half  risen  a  heavy  jerky  mo- 
tion seized  our  lines  and  we  seemed  to  lift  oin*- 
selves  up.  A  thrill  of  varying  emotions  passed 
through  me.  I  knew  that  we  were  going  to 
attack  the  British,  not  await  their  charge. 

Our  drummers  began  to  beat  a  reply  to 
theirs,  but  I  paid  small  attention  to  them.  The 
fierce  pattering  from  the  ritles  of  the  skirmish- 
ers and  the  whistling  of  the  bullets  now  coming 
about  our  ears  were  far  more  important  sounds. 
But  the  garrulous  drums  beat  on. 

'*  Here  goes!  "  said  Whitestone. 

The  drums  leaped  into  a  faster  tune,  and  we, 


riiE  SUN  OF  sakatO(;a.  1^7 

kcepinj^  pace  with  the  redouMed  rulj-a-dul), 
cliarged  into  a  cloud  of  smoke  si)ang"led  with 
llaniin.i^'  spots.  Tlie  smoke  filled  my  eyes  and  1 
ct)uld  not  see,  but  1  was  borne  on  by  my  own 
will  and  the  solid  rush  of  the  men  beside  me 
and  behind  me.  Then  my  eyes  cleared  })artly, 
and  1  saw  a  long-  red  line  in  front  of  us.  Those 
in  the  first  rank  were  on  one  knee,  and  1  re- 
member thinking  how  sharp  their  bayonets 
looked.  The  thought  was  cut  short  by  a  vol- 
ley and  a  blaze  which  seemed  to  envelop  their 
w  hole  line.  A  huge  groan  arose  from  our  ranks. 
I  missed  the  shoulder  against  my  left  shoulder 
— the  man  who  had  stood  beside  me  was  no 
longer  there. 

We  paused  only  for  a  moment  to  fire  in 
our  turn,  and  our  groan  found  an  equal  echo 
among  the  British.  Then,  officers  shouting  com- 
mands and  men  shouting  curses,  we  rushed 
ui)on  the  bayonets. 

I  expected  to  be  spitted  through,  and  do  not 
know  why  1  was  not;  but  in  the  turmoil  of 
noise  and  flame  and  smoke  I  swept  forward 
with  all  the  rest.  Wlien  we  struck  them  I  felt 
a  mighty  shock,  as  if  1  were  the  whole  line 
instead  of  one  man.     Then  came  the  joy  of  the 


138  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

savage  when  their  Hue — bayonets  and  all — 
reeled  back  and  shivered  under  the  crash  of 
ours. 

I  shouted  madly,  and  struck  through  the 
smoke  with  my  sword.  I  was  conscious  that  I 
stepped  on  something  soiier  than  the  earth, 
that  it  crunched  beneath  my  feet;  but  I 
thought  little  of  it.  Instead  I  rushed  on, 
hacking  with  my  sword  at  the  red  blurs  in  the 
smoke. 

I  do  not  say  it  as  a  boast,  for  there  were 
more  of  us  than  of  them — though  they  used  to 
claim  that  tliev  did  not  care  for  numbers — but 
they  could  place  small  check  upon  our  ad- 
vance, although  they  had  cannon  as  well  as  bayo- 
nets. Their  red  line,  very  much  seamed  anrl 
scarred  now,  was  driven  back,  and  still  farther 
back,  up  the  hill.  Our  men,  long  anxious  for  this 
battle  and  sure  of  triumph,  poured  after  them 
like  a  rising  torrent.  The  British  were  not 
strong  enough,  and  were  swept  steadily  toward 
their  intrenchments. 

"  Do  you  hear  that? "  shouted  some  one  in 
my  ear. 

"Hear  what?"  I  shouted  in  reply,  turn- 
ing to  Whitestone. 


THE  SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


139 


**  The  cannon  and  the  rifles  across  yonder," 
he  said,  nodding  his  head. 

Then  I  noticed  the  angry  crash  of  artillery 
and  small  arms  to  our  left,  and  I  knew  by  the 
sound  that  not  we  alone  but  the  whole  battle 
front  of  both  armies  was  engaged. 

If  the  British,  as  it  seemed,  wanted  a  decisive 
test  of  strength,  they  would  certainly  get  it. 

For  a  few  moments  the  smoke  rolled  over  us 
in  such  ^'olume  that  I  could  not  see  Whitestone, 
who  was  but  three  feet  from  me,  but  I  perceived 
that  we  had  wheeled  a  little,  and  nobody  was 
before  us.  Then  the  smoke  drifted  aside,  and 
our  men  uttered  a  most  tremendous  shout,  for 
all  the  British  who  were  alive  or  could  walk  had 
been  driven  into  their  intrenchments,  and,  so 
far  as  that,  we  were  going  to  carry  their  in- 
trenchments too,  or  try. 

I  think  that  all  of  us  took  a  very  long  breath, 

for   I    still   had   the   strange   feeling   that    our 

whole   line   was   one   single   living   thing,   and 

whatever  happened  to  it  I  felt.     The  cannon 

from  the  intrenchments  were  fired  straight  into 

our  faces,  but   our  bloody  line   swept   on.       I 

leaped  upon  a  ridge  of  newly  thrown  earth  and 

struck  at  a  tall  cap.      I  heard  a  tremendous 
10 


140 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


swearing,  long  volleys  of  deep  German  oaths. 
We  were  among  the  paid  Hessians,  whom  we 
ever  hated  more  than  the  British  for  coming 
to  fight  us  in  a  quarrel  that  was  none  of  theirs. 

The  Hessians,  even  with  their  intrenchments 
and  cannon,  could  not  stand  before  us — nor  do 
I  think  they  are  as  good  as  we.  Perhaps  our 
hatred  of  these  mercenaries  swelled  our  zeal, 
but  their  intrenchments  were  no  barrier  to  us. 
For  a  space  we  fought  them  hand  to  hand,  knee 
to  knee;  then  they  gave  way.  I  saw  their  slain 
commander  fall.  Some  lied,  some  yielded; 
others  fought  on,  retreating. 

I  rushed  forward  and  called  upon  a  Hessian 
to  surrender.  For  answer  he  stabbed  straight 
at  my  throat  with  his  bayonet.  He  would  have 
surelv  hit  the  mark,  but  a  man  beside  him 
knocked  the  bayonet  away  with  his  sword,  call- 
ing out  at  the  same  moment  to  me. 

*'  That's  part  payment  of  my  debt  to  you. 
Dick." 

He  was  gone  in  the  smoke,  and  as  T  was 
busy  receiving  tht  surrender  of  the  Hessian  and 
his  bayonet  I  could  not  follow  him.  I  looked 
around  for  more  to  do,  but  all  the  Hessians  who 
had  not  fled  had  yielded,  and  the  fight  was  ours. 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


141 


Burgoyne  had  not  only  failed  in  the  pitched 
battle  in  the  open  field,  but  we  had  taken  many 
of  his  cannon  and  a  portion  of  his  camp.  His 
entire  army,  no  longer  able  to  face  us  in  any  sort 
cjf  contest,  lay  exposed  to  our  attack. 

I  wondered  why  we  did  not  rush  on  and 
finish  it  all  then,  but  I  noticed  for  the  fi  t  time 
that  the  twilight  had  come  and  the  skies  were 
i-Towin^-  dark  over  the  field  of  battle.  1  must 
have  spoken  my  thoughts  aloud,  for  \Miite- 
stone,  at  my  elbow,  said: 

"  Xo  use  luning  more  men  killed,  Mr.  Shel- 
ley; we've  nothing  to  do  now  but  hold  fast  to 
what  we've  got,  and  the  rest  will  come  to  us." 

W'hitestone  sometimes  spoke  to  me  in  a 
fatherly  manner,  though  T  was  his  superior.  But 
T  forgave  him.     I  owed  much  to  him. 

The  battle  ceased  as  suddenly  as  it  had  be- 
.^un.  The  long  shadows  of  the  night  seemed 
to  cover  everything  and  bring  peace,  though 
I  lie  cries  of  the  wounded  reminded  us  of  what 
had  been  done.  We  gathered  up  the  hurt,  re- 
iii'ving  all  we  could;  l)ut  later  in  the  night  the 
sharpshooters  began  again. 

I  was  exultant  over  our  victory  and  the 
certainty  of  a  still  greater  triumph  to  come.     I 


142  THE   SUN  OF  SARATOGA. 

rejoiced  that  Albert  had  not  forgotten  his  debt 
to  me  and  had  found  a  way  of  repayment,  but 
I  felt  anxiety  also.  In  the  rush  of  the  battle, 
with  the  bullets  flying  one  knew  not  whither, 
not  even  the  women  and  children  lying  in  that 
portion  of  the  British  camp  yet  intact  were  safe. 

The  wounded  removed,  I  had  nothing  more 
to  do  but  to  wait.  Only  then  did  I  remember 
to  be  thankful  that  I  was  unhurt.  I  had  much 
smoke  grime  upon  my  face,  and  I  dare  say  I 
was  not  fine  to  look  at,  but  I  thought  little  of 
those  things,  ^\llitestone,  who  also  was  free 
from  active  duty,  joined  me,  and  I  was  glad. 
He  drew  his  long  pipe  from  the  interior  of  his 
waistcoat,  filled  it  with  tobacco,  lighted  it  and 
became  happy. 

"  It  has  been  a  'good  day's  work,"  he  said 
at  length. 

''  Yes,  for  us,"  I  replied.  "  What  will  be 
the  next  step,  Whitestone?  " 

*'  The  British  will  retreat  soon,"  he  said. 
"  Wq  will  follow  without  ])ressing  them  too 
hard.  Xo  use  to  waste  our  men  now.  In 
a  week  the  British  will  be  ours." 

Whitestone  spoke  with  such  assurance  that 
I  was  convinced. 


X 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE    NIGHT    AFTER. 

But  a  dull  murmur  arose  from  the  two 
camps,  victor  and  vanquished.  Both  seemed  to 
sleep  for  the  morrow.  I  had  doric  so  much 
i^uard  duty  of  late  that  I  looked  for  such  assign- 
ment as  a  matter  of  course,  and  this  night  wr<^ 
no  exception.  With  W'hitestone  and  some  sol- 
diers I  was  to  guard  one  of  the  little  passes 
between  the  hills.  We  were  merely  an  alarm 
corps;  we  could  not  stop  a  passage,  but  there 
were  enough  behind  us  whom  we  could  arouse 
for  the  purpose.  The  British  might  retreat  far- 
ther into  the  interior,  but  the  river  and  its 
hanks  must  be  closed  to  them. 

We  stood  in  the  dark,  but  we  could  see  the 

wavering  lights  of  either  camp.     The  murmur 

as  it  came  to  us  was  very  low.    The  two  armies 

rested  as  if  they  were  sunk  in  a  lethargy  after 

tlieir  strenuous  efforts  of  the  day.    I  did  not  re- 

143 


144  '^^^   ^^^'    ^^   SARATOGA. 

gret  my  watch.  I  did  not  care  to  sleep.  The 
fever  of  the  ticfht  ^•et  lino:eriiic:  in  mv  ])]oo(l.  I 
was  not  so  old  to  battle  that  I  could  lie  down 
and  find  slumber  as  soon  as  the  fighting  ended. 

"  Mr.  Shelby,"  said  W'hitestone,  "  is  there 
any  rule  or  regulation  against  a  pipe  to- 
night? " 

**  I  know  of  none.  W'hitestone,''  I  said. 

He  was  satisfied,  and  lighted  his  ])ii)e,  which 
increased  his  satisfaction.  I  strolled  about  a 
little,  watching  tlie  lights  and  meditating  upon 
the  events  of  the  day.  The  camps  stood  higher 
than  I.  and  they  looked  like  huge  black  clouds 
shot  through  here  and  there  with  bits  of  flame. 
I  believed  W'hitestone's  assurance  that  Bur- 
goyne  would  retreat  on  the  morrow;  but  1 
wondered  what  he  would  attempt  after  that. 
Clinton's  arrival  might  save  him,  but  it  seemed 
to  me  that  the  possibility  of  such  an  event  was 
fast  lessening.  In  this  fashion  I  passed  an  hour 
or  two;  then  it  occurred  to  me  to  approach 
the  British  camp  a  little  more  closely  and  see 
what  movements  there  might  be  on  the  out- 
skirts, if  any.  Telling  \\'hitestone  of  my  in- 
tent, I  advanced  some  forty  or  fifty  yard<. 
From  that  point,  though  still  beyond  rifle  shot. 


THE    NIGHT   AFTER.  I^^ 

1  could  see  figures  in  the  British  camp  when 
they  passed  between  me  and  the  firehght. 

There  was  one  hght  larger  than  the  others — 
near  the  center  of  the  camp  it  seemed  to  be — 
and  figures  passed  and  repassed  in  h-ont  of  it 
like  a  procession.  Presently  I  noticed  that 
these  shapes  passed  in  fours,  and  they  were 
carrying  something.  It  seemed  a  curious  thing, 
and  I  watched  it  a  little;  then  I  understood 
what  they  were  doing:  they  were  burying  the 
dead. 

I  could  easily  have  crept  nearer  and  fired 
some  bullets  into  the  British  camp,  but  I  had 
no  such  intent.  That  was  the  business  of  others, 
and  even  then  I  could  hear  the  far-away  shots 
of  the  sharpshooters. 

The  sights  of  this  stricken  camp  interested 
me.  The  ground  was  favorable  for  conceal- 
ment, and  I  crept  nearer.  Lying  among  some 
weeds  I  could  obtain  a  good  view.  The  figures 
before  indistinct  and  shapeless  now  took  f^rm 
and  outline.  I  could  tell  which  were  officers 
and  which  were  soldiers. 

Some  men  were  digging  in  the  hillside. 
They  soon  ceased,  and  four  others  lifted  a  body 
from  the  grass  and  put  it   in  the  grave.      A 


146  THE  SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

woman  came  forward  and  read  from  a  little 
book.  ^ly  heart  thrilled  when  I  recognized 
the  straight  figure  and  earnest  face  of  Kate 
Van  Auken.  Yet  there  was  no  need  for  me 
to  be  surprised  at  the  sight  of  her.  It  was  like 
her  to  give  help  on  such  a  night. 

I  could  not  hear  tlie  words,  but  I  knew 
they  were  a  prayer,  and  I  bowed  my  head. 
When  she  finished  the  prayer  and  they  began 
to  throw  in  the  earth,  she  walked  away  and 
I  lost  sight  of  her;  but  I  guessed  that  she 
went  on  to  other  and  similar  duties.  I 
turned  about  to  retreat,  and  stumbled  over  a 
body. 

A  feeble  voice  bade  me  be  more  careful,  and 
not  run  over  a  gentleman  who  was  not  bother 
ing  me  but  attending  to  his  own  business.  A 
British  officer,  very  pale  and  weak — I  could  see 
that  even  in  the  obscurity — sat  up  and  looked 
reproachfully  at  me. 

**  Aren't  you  rebels  satisfied  with  beating 
us?  "  he  asked  in  a  faint  voice  scarce  above  a 
whisper.  "  Do  you  want  to  trample  on  us 
too?" 

''  I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  said.  "  I  did  not  see 
you." 


THE   NIGHT   AFTER. 


147 


*'  If  any  harm  was  done,  your  apology  has  re- 
moved it,"  he  replied  most  politely. 

I  looked  at  him  with  interest.  His  voice 
was  not  the  only  weak  thing  about  him.  He 
seemed  unal^le  to  sit  up,  but  was  in  a  half-re- 
clining position,  with  his  shoulder  propped 
against  a  stone.     He  was  young. 

''  What's  the  matter?  "  I  asked,  sympathiz- 
ing much. 

"  I'm  in  the  most  embarrassing  position  of 
my  life,"  he  replied,  with  a  faint  attempt  at  a 
laugh.  ''  One  of  your  confounded  rebel  bul- 
lets has  gone  through  both  my  thighs.  I  don't 
think  it  has  struck  any  bone,  but  I  have  lost 
so  much  blood  that  I  can  neither  walk,  nor  can 
I  cry  out  loud  enough  for  my  people  to  come 
and  rescue  me,  nor  for  your  people  to  come 
and  capture  me.  I  think  the  bleeding  has 
stopped.  The  blood  seems  to  have  clogged  it- 
self up." 

I  was  bound  to  admit  that  he  had  truly  de- 
scribed his  position  as  embarrassing. 

**  What  would  you  do  if  you  were  in  my 
place?  "  he  asked. 

I  didn't  know,  and  said  so.  Yet  I  had  no 
mind  to  abandon  him.    The  positions  reversed, 


148  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

I  would  have  a  very  cruel  opinion  of  him  were 
he  to  abandon  me.  He  could  not  see  mv  face, 
and  he  must  have  had  some  idea  that  1  was 
going  to  desert  him. 

*'  Vou  won't  leave  me,  will  you?  "  he  asked 
anxiouslv. 

His  tone  appealed  to  me.  and  1  assured  him 
very  warmly  that  I  would  either  take  him  a 
prisoner  into  our  camp  or  send  him  into  his 
own.  Then  I  sat  my  head  to  the  task,  for 
either  way  it  was  a  i)rol)lem.  I  doubted 
whether  I  could  carry  him  to  our  camp,  which 
was  far  off  comparatixely,  as  he  looked  like  a 
heavy  Briton.  I  certainly  could  carry  him  to 
his  own  camp,  which  was  very  near,  but  that 
would  make  it  uncommonly  embarrassing  for 
me.     I  explained  the  difficulty  to  hiip. 

"  That's  so,"  he  said  thoughtfully.  '*  I  don't 
want  you  to  get  yourself  into  trouble  in  order 
to  get  me  out  of  it." 

'*  What's  your  name?  "  I  asked. 

"  Hume.  Ensign  \Mlliam  Hume,"  he  re- 
plied. 

'*  You're  too  young  to  die,  Hume,"  I  said. 
"  and  I  promise  not  to  leave  you  until  you  arc 
in  safety.' 


)) 


THE   NIGHT   AFTER. 


149 


"  I'll  do  the  same  for  you,"  he  said,  "  if  ever 
I  find  von  Iviiif^  on  a  hillside  with  a  bullet 
hole  through  both  your  thighs." 

I  sat  dowr  on  the  grass  beside  him,  and 
gave  him  something  strong  out  of  a  little  flask 
that  I  carried  in  an  inside  pocket.  He  drank 
it  with  eagerness  and  gratitude  and  grew 
cheerful. 

I  thouii'ht  a  few  moments,  and  mv  idea  came 
to  me,  as  good  ideas  sometimes  do.  As  he 
could  neither  walk  nor  shout,  it  behooved  me 
to  do  both  for  him.  Telling  him  my  plan,  of 
which  he  approved  most  heartily,  as  he  ought 
to  have  done.  1  lifted  him  in  my  arms  and 
walked  toward  the  British  camp.  He  was  a 
heavy  load  and  my  breath  grew  hard. 

\\q  were  almost  within  reach  of  the  hre- 
li""ht,  and  vet  we  were  not  noticed  bv  anv  of 
the  British,  who,  I  suppose,  were  absorbed  in 
their  preparations.  We  came  to  a  newly  cut 
tree,  intended  proba,bly  for  use  in  the  British 
fortifications.  1  put  Ensign  Hume  upon  this 
tree  v>ith  his  back  supported  against  an  up- 
thrust  bough. 

"Xow,  don't  forget,  when  they  come,"  1  said. 
"  to  tell  them  you  managed  to  crawl  to  this  tree 


ISO 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


and  shout  for  help.  That  will  prevent  any  pur- 
suit of  me." 

He  promised,  and  shook  hands  with  as 
strong  a  grip  as  he  could,  for  he  was  yet  weak. 
Then  I  stepped  back  a  few^  paces  behind  him, 
and  shouted: 

"Help,  help,  comrades!     Help!    help!" 

Figures  advanced  from  the  firelight,  and  1 
glided  away  without  noise.  From  my  covert 
in  the  darkness  I  could  see  them  lift  Hume 
from  the  tree  and  carry  him  into  his  own  camp. 
Then  I  went  farther  away,  feeling  glad. 

It  was  my  intent  to  rejoin  Wliitestone  and 
the  soldiers,  and  in  truth  I  went  back  part  of 
the  way,  but  the  British  camp  had  a  great  at- 
traction for  me.  1  was  curious  to  see,  as  far  as 
I  could,  what  might  be  going  on  in  its  out- 
skirts. I  also  encouraged  myself  with  the 
thought  that  I  might  acquire  information  of 
value. 

Thus  gazing  about  with  no  certain  purpose, 
I  saw  a  figure  coming  toward  me.  One  of  our 
sharpshooters  or  spies  returning  from  explora- 
tions, was  my  first  thought.  But  this  thought 
quickly  yielded  to  another,  in  which  wonder- 
ment was  mingled  to  a  marked  extent.     That 


THE   NIGHT   AFTER.  151 

figure  was  familiar.  I  had  seen  that  swing,  that 
manner,  before. 

My  wonderment  increased,  and  I  decided  to 
observe  closely.  I  stepped  farther  aside  that  I 
might  not  be  seen,  of  which,  however,  there  was 
but  small  chance,  so  long  as  I  sought  conceal- 
ment. 

The  figure  veered  a  little  from  me,  choosing 
a  course  where  the  night  lay  thickest.  I  was 
unable  to  make  up  my  mind  about  it.  Once 
I  had  taken  another  figure  that  looked  like  it 
for  Albert,  and  once  I  had  taken  it  for  Albert's 
sister,  and  each  time  I  had  been  wrong.  Now 
I  had  my  choice,  and  also  the  results  of  experi- 
ence, and  remained  perplexed. 

I  resolved  to  follow.  There  might  be  mis- 
chief afoot.  Albert  was  quite  capable  of  it,  if 
Albert's  sister  was  not.  The  figure  proceeded 
toward  our  post,  where  I  had  left  Whitestone 
in  command  for  the  time  being.  I  fell  in  be- 
hind, preserving  a  convenient  distance  be- 
tween us. 

Ahead  of  us  I  saw  a  spark  of  fire,  tiny  but 
distinct.  I  knew  very  w^ell  that  it  was  the  light 
of  Whitestone's  pipe.  I  expected  the  figvire 
that  I  was  following  to  turn  aside,  but  it  did 


152  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

iiot.  Instead,  after  a  moment's  pause,  as  if 
for  examination,  it  went  straight  on  to- 
ward the  spark  of  light.  1  continued  to  fol- 
low. W'hitestone  was  alone.  The  soldiers 
were  not  \isihle.  I  supi)ose  they  were  farther 
back. 

The  gallant  sergeant  raised  his  ritle  at  sight 
of  the  approaching  figure,  hut  dropped  it 
when  he  j^erceived  that  nc^^hing  hostile  was  in- 
tended. 

**  Good  evening.  Miss  \^an  Auken,"  he  said 
most  politely.  "  Have  you  come  to  surren- 
der? " 

**  No,"  replied  Kate.  *'  but  to  make  inqui- 
ries, sergeant,  if  you  would  be  so  kind  as  to  an- 
swer them." 

"  If  it's  not  against  my  duty,"  replied  White- 
stone,  with  no  abatement  of  his  courtesy. 

*'  I  wanted  to  know  if  all  my  friends  had  es- 
caped unhurt  from  the  battle."  she  said.  "  I 
was  going  to  ask  about  you  first,  sergeant,  but 
I  see  that  it  is  not  necessary." 

"  What  others?  "  said  the  sergeant. 

"  Well,  there's  ^Ir.  Shelby,"  she  said.  "  Al- 
bert said  he  saw  him  in  that  fearful  charge,  the 
tumult  of  which  frightened  us  so  uutch." 


THE   NIGHT   AFTER. 


153 


*'  Oh,  Mr.  Shelby's  all  right,  ma'am,"  replied 
the  sergeant.  '*  The  fact  is,  he's  in  command 
of  this  very  post,  and  he's  scouting  about  here 
somewhere  now.  Any  others,  ma'am,  vou  wish 
to  ask  about?  " 

*'  I  don't  recall  any  just  now,"  she  said,  *'  and 
[  suppose  I  ought  to  go  back,  or  you  might 
be  compelled  to  arrest  me  as  a  spy,  or  some- 
thing of  that  kind." 

The  sergeant  made  another  deep  bo\/. 
Whitestone  always  thought  he  had  fine  man- 
ners. Kate  began  her  return.  She  did  not  see 
me,  for  I  had  stepped  aside.  But  I  was  very 
glad  that  I  had  seen  her.  I  watched  her  until 
she  re-entered  the  British  f^amp. 

When  I  rejoined  Whitestone  he  assured  me 
that  nothing  whatever  had  happened  in  my  ab- 
sence, and,  besides  the  men  of  our  immediate 
command,  he  had  not  seen  a  soul  of  either 
army.  I  did  not  dispute  his  word,  for  I  was 
satisfied. 

All  night  long  the  bustle  continued  in  Bur- 
goyne's  camp,  and  there  was  no  doul  t  of  its 
meaning.  Burgoyne  would  retreat  on  the  mor- 
row, in  a  desperate  attempt  to  gain  tim.e,  hop- 
ing always  that  Clinton  would  come.    The  next 


154  THE   SUN  OF   SARATOGA. 

day  this  certainty  was  fulfilled.  The  British 
army  drew  off,  and  we  followed  in  overwhelming 
force,  content,  so  our  generals  seemed,  to  wait 
for  the  prize  without  shedding  blood  in  another 
pitched  battle. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


WE    RIDE    SOUTHWARD. 


But  it  is  not  sufficient  merely  to  win  a 
battle.  One  must  do  more,  especially  when 
another  hostile  army  is  approaching  and  one 
does  not  know  how  near  that  army  is,  or  how 
much  nearer  it  will  be. 

It  was  such  a  trouble  as  this  that  afflicted 
our  generals  after  the  morning-  of  the  great 
victory.  That  other  British  army  down  the 
river  bothered  them.  They  wanted  exact  in- 
formation about  Clinton,  and  my  colonel  sent 
for  me. 

*"  Mr.  Shelby,"  he  said,  "  take  the  best  horse 

you   can    find    in    the    regiment,    ride    with    all 

haste  to  Albany,  and  farther  south,  if  necessary, 

find  out  all  you  can  about  Clinton,  and  gallop 

back  to  us  with  the  news.     It  is  an  important 

and  perhaps  a  dangerous  duty,  but  I  think  you 

are  a  good  man  for  it,  and  if  you  succeed,  those 
II  155 


156 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


niucli  higher  in  rank  than  T  am  will  thank 
you." 

I  felt  flattered,  hut  I  did  not  allow  mvself 
to  he  overwhelmed. 

"  Colonel,"  I  said.  "  let  me  take  Sergeant 
Whitestone  with  me;  then,  if  one  of  us  should 
fall,  the  other  can  complete  the  errand." 

But  I  did  not  have  the  possihle  fall  of  either 
of  us  in  mind.  W'hitestone  and  I  understand 
each  other,  and  he  is  good  company.  ]\Iore- 
over,  the  sergeant  is  a  handy  man  to  have 
ahout  in  an  emergency. 

The  colonel  consented  promptly. 

"  It  is  a  good  idea,"  he  said.  "  I  should  have 
thotiqiht  of  it  mvself." 

But  then  colonels  don't  always  think  of 
everything. 

Wdiitestone  was  very  willing. 

**  I  don't  think  anything  will  happen  here 
hefore  we  get  back."  he  said,  looking  off  in  the 
direction  of  Burc^ovne's  armv. 

In  a  half  hour,  good  horses  under  us,  we 
were  galloping  southward.  \\>  expected  to 
reach  Albany  in  four  hours. 

For  a  half  hour  we  rode  along,  chiefly  in 
silence,  each  occupied  with  his  own  thoughts. 


WE   RIDE    SOUTHWARD. 


157 


Tlicn  T  saw  Wliitestone  fiiml)linc^  in  the  inside 
pocket  of  his  waistcoat,  and  I  knew  that  the 
pipe  was  coniinc;'.  He  performed  the  feat  of 
lii^htini;"  it  and  sniokin^-  it  without  diminish- 
ing-  s])eed,  and  looked  at  me  triumphantly.  I 
said  nothinj>'.  knowing-  that  no  reply  was  needed. 

My  thoughts — and  it  was  no  trespass  upon 
my  soldierhood — were  elsewhere,  i  hold  that  I 
am  not  a  sentimental  fellow,  but  in  the  ride  to 
Albany  1  often  saw  the  face  of  Kate  \^an  Auken 
• — Mrs.  Captain  Chudleiiih  that  was  to  be — a  girl 
who  was  nothing  to  me.  of  course.  Vet  I  was 
glad  that  she  was  not  a  Tory  and  traitor,  and 
1  hoped  Chudleigh  would  prove  to  be  the  right 
sort  of  man. 

"  ril  be  bound  you're  thinking  of  some  girl," 
said  W'hitestone  suddenly,  as  he  took  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth  and  held  the  stem  judicially 
between  his  thumb  and  foreiinger. 

"Why?"  I  asked. 

*■  Vou  look  up  at  the  sky,  and  not  ahead  of 
you;  you  sigh,  and  you're  young,"  replied 
Whitestone. 
f  But  I  swore  that  I  was  not  thinking  of  any 
p^irl,  and  with  all  the  more  emphasis  because 
1  was.     Whitestone  was  considerate,  however, 


158  THE    SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

and  said  nothing  more  on  the  subject.    Within 
the  time  set  for  ourselves  we  reached  Albany. 

Albany,  as  all  the  world  knows,  is  an  im- 
portant town  of  Dutchmen.  It  is  built  on  top 
of  a  hill,  down  a  steep  hillside,  and  then  into 
a  bottom  by  the  river,  which  sometimes  rises 
without  an  invitation  from  the  Dutchmen  and 
washes  out  the  houses  in  the  bottom.  I  have 
heard  that  many  of  these  Dutchmen  are  not 
real  Dutchmen,  but  have  more  English  blood 
in  them.  It  is  not  a  matter,  however,  that  I 
care  to  argue,  as  it  is  no  business  of  mine  what 
hobby  horse  one  may  choose  to  ride  hard.  All 
I  know  is  that  these  Albany  Dutchmen  are  wide 
of  girth  and  can  fight  well,  which  is  sufficient 
for  the  times. 

\\'hitestone  and  I  rode  along  looking  at  the 
queer  houses  with  their  gable  ends  to  the  street. 
\\'e  could  see  that  the  town  was  in  a  great 
flurry,  as  it  had  a  good  right  to  be,  with  our 
army  and  Burgoyne's  above  it  and  Clinton's 
below  it.  and  nobody  knowing  what  was  aboiii 
to  happen. 

"  \\c  nuist  gather  up  the  gossip  of  the  town 
tirst."  I  said  to  W'hitestone.  *'  X^o  doubt  much 
of  it  will  be  false  and  more  of  it  exaggerated 


WE    RIDE   SOUTHWARD. 


159 


but  it  will  serve  as  an  indication  and  tell  us  how 
to  set  about  our  work." 

"  Then  here's  the  place  for  us  to  begin  gath- 
ering." said  Whitestone,  pointing  to  a  low  frame 
l)uilding  through  the  open  door  of  which  many 
\oices  and  some  strong  odors  of  liquor  came, 
luidently  it  was  a  dnnking  ta\ern.  and  I  knew 
Whitestone  was  right  when  he  said  it  was  a 
good  place  in  which  to  collect  rumors. 

We  dismounted,  hitched  our  horses  to  posts, 
and  entered.  As  plenty  (^f  American  soldiers 
were  about  the  town,  we  had  no  fear  that  our 
uniforms  would  attract  special  attention.  In 
truth  we  saw  sexeral  uniforms  like  ours  in  the 
room,  which  was  well  crowded  with  an  assem- 
blage most  mixed  and  noisv.  Wdiitestone  and  I 
cacli  ordered  a  iilass  of  the  A11,)an\-  whiskv  tem- 
pcred  with  water,  and  found  it  to  be  not  bad 
after  a  long  and  wearv  ride.  1  ha\e  observed 
that  a  <i-ood  toddv  cuts  the  dust  out  of  one's 
throat  in  excellent  fashion.  I'eeling  bet'ter 
wc  stood  around  with  the  others  and  listened 
to  the  talk,  of  which  there  was  no  lack.  In 
truth,  some  of  it  was  verv  strange  and  remark- 
able. 

The  news  of  our  great  battle  had  readied 


l6o  THE   SUN    or    SARATOGA. 

the  Albany  people,  but  in  a  vague  and  contrary 
fashion,  and  we  found  that  we  had  beaten  Bur- 
goyne;  that  Burgoyne  had  beaten  us;  tliat  Bur- 
goyne  was  fleeing  with  all  speed  toward  Can- 
ada; that  he  would  be  in  Albany  before  ni"ht. 
Those  who  know  always  feel  so  superior  to 
those  who  don't  know  that  Whitestone  and  I 
were  in  a  state  of  great  satisfaction. 

But  the  conversation  soon  turned  from  Bur- 
goyne to  Clinton,  and  then  Whitestone  and  I 
grew  eager.  Our  eagerness  turned  to  alarm, 
for  we  heard  that  Clinton,  with  a  great  fleet 
and  a  great  army,  was  pressing  toward  Albany 
with  all  haste. 

Good  cause  for  alarm  was  this,  and,  how- 
ever much  it  might  be  exaggerated,  we  had 
no  doubt  that  the  gist  of  it  was  the  truth. 

I  made  a  sign  to  Whitestone,  and  we  slipped 
quietly  out  of  the  tavern,  not  wishing  to  draw 
any  notice  to  ourselves.  Despite  our  caution, 
two  men  followed  us  outside.  I  had  observed 
one  of  these  men  looking  at  me  in  the  tavern, 
but  he  had  turned  his  eyes  away  when  mine 
met  his.  Outside  he  came  up  to  me  and  said 
boldly,  though  in  a  low  voice: 

**  Have  you  come  from  the  south?  " 


WE   RIDE    SOUTHWARD.  i6i 


a 


Xo,"  I  said  carelessly,  thinking  to  turn 
him  off. 

*•  Then  you  have  come  from  the  north,  from 
the  battlefield,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  convic- 
tion. 

'*  What  makes  you  think  so?  "  1  asked,  an- 
noved. 

'*  You  and  your  companion  are  covered  with 
dust  and  your  horses  with  perspiration,"  he  re- 
plied, "  and  you  have  ridden  far  and  hard." 

I  could  not  guess  the  man's  purpose,  but 
I  took  him  and  the  others  with  him  to  be 
Tories,  spies  of  the  British,  who  must  be  numer- 
ous about  Albany.  1  do  not  like  to  confess  it, 
but  it  is  true  that  in  our  province  of  New  York 
the  Tories  were  about  as  many  as,  perhaps  more 
than,  the  patriots.  We  might  denounce  the 
men,  but  we  had  no  proof  at  all  against  them. 
Moreover,  we  could  not  afford  to  get  into  a 
wrangle  on  such  a  mission  as  ours. 

"  You  were  at  the  battle,"  said  the  man 
^hrewdly,  "  and  you  have  come  in  all  haste 
to  Albany." 

"  Well,  what  if  we  were?  "  I  said  in  some 
heat.  His  interference  and  impertinence  were 
enough  to  make  me  angry. 


l62  'i^HE    SUN    OF   SARATOGA. 

**  But  I  did  not  say  from  which  army  you 
came,''  he  said,  assuming  an  air  of  great  acute- 
ness  and  knowledge. 

I  was  in  doubt.  Did  the  man  take  us  for 
Tory  spies — I  grew  angrier  still  at  the  thought 
— or  was  he  merely  trying  to  draw  us  on  to  the 
telling  of  what  he  knew?  While  I  hesitated, 
he  added: 

"  I  know  that  Burgoyne  held  his  own  in  a 
severe  battle  foutrht  vesterdav.  That  is  no  news 
to  you.  But  if  you  go  about  the  town  a  little, 
you  will  also  know  what  I  know,  that  Clinton, 
in  overwhelming  force,  will  soon  be  at  Albany.'' 

I  was  convinced  now  that  the  man  was  try- 
ing to  draw  from  me  the  facts  about  the  bat- 
tle, and  I  believed  more  than  ever  that  he  and 
his  comrades  were  Tory  spies.  I  regretted  that 
Whitestone  and  1  had  not  removed  the  dust 
of  travel  before  we  entered  the  tavern.  I  re- 
gretted also  that  so  many  of  our  countrymen 
should  prove  faithless  to  us.  It  would  have 
been  far  easier  for  us  had  we  only  the  British 
and  the  hired  Hessians  to  light. 

Whitestone  was  leaning  against  his  horse, 
bridle  in  hand,  looking  at  the  solitary  cloud  that 
the  sky  contained.      Apparently  the  sergeant 


WE    RIDE    SOUTHWARD.  l6^ 

was  off  in  dreams,  but  I  knew  he  was  listening 
intently.  He  let  his  eyes  fall,  and  when  they 
met  mine,  he  said,  very  simply  and  carelessly: 

"  I  think  we'd  better  go." 

As  I  said,  the  sergeant  is  a  very  handy  man 
to  have  about  in  an  emergency.  His  solution 
was  the  simplest  in  the  world — merely  to  ride 
away  from  the  men  and  leave  them. 

We  mounted  our  horses. 

"  Good  day,  gentlemen,"  we  said. 

*'  Good  day,"  they  replied. 

Then  we  left  them,  and  when  I  looked  back, 
at  our  first  turning,  thev  were  still  standing  at 
the  door  of  the  tavern.  But  I  gave  them  little 
further  thought,  for  Clinton  and  his  advancing 
lleet  and  army  must  now  receive  the  whole  at- 
tention of  the  sergeant  and  myself. 

It  was  obvious  that  we  must  leave  Albany, 
go  down  the  river,  and  get  exact  news  about 
the  British.  It  was  easy  enough  for  us  to  pass 
out  of  the  town  and  continue  our  journey.  We 
had  been  provided  with  the  proper  papers  in 
case  of  trouble. 

We  had  given  our  horses  rest  and  food  in 
Albany,  and  rode  at  a  good  pace  for  an  hour. 
Not  far  away  we  could  see  the  Hudson,  a  great 


164  T'lE    SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

ribbon  of  silver  or  gray,  as  sunshine  or  cloud 
fell  upon  it.  I  was  occupied  with  the  beauty 
of  the  scene,  when  W'hitestone  called  my  atten- 
tion and  pointed  ahead.  Fifty  yards  away,  and 
in  the  middle  of  the  road,  stood  two  horse- 
men motionless.  They  seemed  to  be  planted 
there  as  i^i'uards,  yet  they  wore  no  uniforms. 

I  felt  some  anxiety,  but  reflected  that  the 
horsemen  must  be  countrymen  waiting,  through 
curiosity  or  friendship,  for  approaching  travelers 
in  such  troublous  times.  But  as  we  rode  nearer 
I  saw  that  I  was  mistaken. 

"  Our  inquiring  friends  of  the  tavern,"  said 
Whitestone. 

He  spoke  the  truth.  I  recognized  them 
readily.  When  we  were  within  fifteen  feet  they 
drew  their  horses  across  the  way,  blocking  it. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  gentlemen?  Why 
do  you  stop  us?  "  I  asked. 

"  We  are  an  American  patrol,"  replied  the 
foremost  of  the  two,  the  one  who  had  cjues- 
tioned  me  at  the  tavern,  "  and  we  can  not  let 
anybody  pass  here.    It  is  against  our  orders." 

Both  wore  ragged  Continental  coats,  which 
I  suppose  they  had  brought  out  of  some  recess 
before  thev  started  on  the  circuit  ahead  of  us. 


WE   RIDE   SOUTHWARD. 


165 


I  signed  to  W'hitcstonc  to  keep  silent,  and 
rode  up  close  to  the  leader. 

*'  We  ought  to  understand  each  other,"  I 
said,  speaking  in  a  confident  and  confidential 
tone. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  he  asked  suspi- 
ciously. 

I  burst  out  laughing,  as  if  1  were  enjoying 
the  best  joke  in  the  world. 

"  I  hate  rebels,"  I  said,  leaning  over  and  tap- 
ping him  familiarly  on  the  shoulder  with  my 
finger. 

*'  I  don't  understand  you,"  he  said. 

"  I  mean  that  you  hate  rebels  too,"  1  re- 
plied,  "  and  that  you  are  just  as  much  of  a  rebel 
as  I  am." 

"  Hi  should  think  so!  Hi  could  tell  bv  the 
look  hof  their  countenances  that  they  are  hof 
the  right  sort,"  broke  in  Wdiitestone,  drop- 
ping eyery  h  where  it  belonged  and  putting  on 
every  one  where  it  did  not  belong. 

It  was  Whitestone's  first  and  last  appear- 
ance on  any  occasion  as  an  Englishman,  but  it 
was  most  successful. 

A  look  of  intelligence  appeared  on  the  faces 
of  the  two  men. 


1 66  THE   SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 

"  Of  Bayle's  regiment  in  Burgoyne's  army, 
both  of  us,"  I  said. 

**  I  thought  it,  back  yonder  in  Albany,"  said 
the  leader,  "  but  why  did  you  fence  us  off  so?  " 

"  One  doesn't  always  know  his  friends,  first 
glance,  especially  in  rebel  towns."  1  said.  "  Like 
you.  1  thought  so,  but  I  couldn't  take  the  risk 
and  declare  myself  until  I  knew  more  about 
vou.'' 

*'  That's  true."  he  acknowledged.  *'  These 
rebels  are  so  cursedly  sly." 

"  Very,  very  sly,"  J  said,  *'  but  we've  fooled 
'em  this  time.'' 

I  pointed  to  their  Continental  coats  and  to 
ours.     Then  we  laughed  all  together. 

"  Tell  me  what  really  happened  up  there," 
said  the  man. 

"  It  was  a  great  battle,"  I  said,  "  but  we 
drove  them  off  the  field,  and  we  can  take  care 
of  ourselves.  Six  thousand  British  and  German 
veterans  care  little  for  all  the  raw  militia  this 
country  can  raise." 

"That's  so,"  he  said.  We  laughed  again 
all  together. 

"  How  is  everything  down  there?  "  I  asked. 
nodding  my  head  toward  the  south. 


WE   RIDE   SOUTHWARD. 


167 


'*  Clinton's  coming  with  a  strong  fleet  and 
five  thousand  men,"  he  rephed.  '*  What  they 
say  in  the  town  is  ah  true." 

"  Small  thanks  he  will  get  from  Burgoyne," 
I  said.  "  Our  general  will  like  it  but  little 
when  Clinton  comes  to  strip  him  of  part  of  his 
glory." 

*'  I  suppose  you  are  right,"  he  answ'ered, 
"  but  I  did  not  think  Burgoyne  was  finding  his 
way  so  easy.  I  understood  that  the  first  battle 
at  Saratoga  stopped  him." 

"  Don't  vou  trouble  yourself  about  Bur- 
goyne,"  I  said.  "  If  he  stopped,  he  stopped  for 
ample  reasons." 

\Miich  was  no  lie. 

"  But  we  must  hasten,"  I  conthiued.  "  Our 
messages  to  Clinton  will  bear  no  delay." 

"  Luck  with  you,"  they  said. 

"  Luck  with  you,"  we  replied,  waving  our 
liands  in  friendly  salute  as  we  rode  away,  still 
to  the  south. 

Whether  thev  ever  found  out  the  truth  I  do 
not  know,  for  I  never  saw  or  heard  of  either 


a  gam. 


\\^e   continued   our   journey   in    silence   for 
some  time.    Whitestone  looked  melancholv. 


1 68 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


*'  What  is  the  matter?  "  I  asked. 
"  Tt  was  too  easy,"  lie  replied.     "  I  always 
pity  fools." 

He   lighted   his    pipe   and   sought    consola- 
tion. 


CHAPTER  XIIT. 

WE    MEET    THE    FLEET. 

The  nisfht  soon  came  and  was  verv  dark. 
We  were  compelled  to  stop  for  rest  and  for  food, 
which  we  found  at  a  farmer's  house.  But  we 
were  satisfied  with  our  day's  work.  We  had 
started,  and  with  the  appearance  of  fact  too, 
the  report  that  Burgoyne  had  beaten  us  in 
j)itched  battle.  We  knew  the  report  would  be 
carried  far  and  wide,  and  Clinton  would  think 
haste  was  not  needed.  Let  me  repeat  that  to 
win  a  battle  is  not  to  win  a  campaign,  and  I 
hold  no  general's  commission  either. 

In  the  morning  we  met  a  few  countrymen 
in  a  state  of  much  fright.  "  Clinton  is  com- 
ing! "  was  all  that  we  couUi  get  from  them.  We 
thought  it  more  than  likely  that  Clinton  was 
coming  in  truth,  since  all  the  reports  said  he 
and  his  ships  ought  to  be  very  near  now. 

'*  The  river  is  the  place  to  look,"  said  White- 
stone. 

i6g 


i;ro  THE    SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

We  turned  our  horses  that  way,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  stood  upon  its  high  banks. 

"  See,"  said  Whitestone,  pointing  a  long- 
arm  and  an  outstretched  finger. 

1  saw,  and  I  saw,  moreover,  that  our  search 
was  ended.  Far  down  the  river  was  the  British 
fleet,  a  line  of  white  specks  upon  the  silver 
bosom  of  the  water.  We  could  scarce  trace 
hull  or  sail  or  mast,  but  ships  they  were  with- 
out mistake,  and  British  ships  they  must  be, 
since  we  had  none.  It  was  not  a  pleasant  sight 
for  us,  l)ut  it  would  have  rejoiced  the  heart 
of  Burgoyne  had  he  been  there  to  see. 

We  knew  that  Clinton  must  have  several 
thousand  men  either  on  board  the  fleet  or  not 
far  below,  and  we  knew  also  that  with  such  a 
strong  force  nothing  could  prevent  his  speedy 
arrival  at  Albany  if  he  chose  to  hasten.  I  knew 
not  what  to  do.  Ought  we  to  go  back  at  once 
to  our  army  with  the  news  of  what  we  had  seen. 
or  ought  we  to  stay  and  tind  out  more?  On  one 
side  was  time  saved,  and  on  the  other  better 
information.  I  put  it  to  Whitestone,  but  he 
was  as  uncertain  as  I. 

^Jeanwhile  the  fleet  grew  under  the  hori- 
zon of  the  river.     We  could  trace  masts  and 


WE   MEET   THE   FLEET. 


171 


spars,  and  see  the  sails  as  they  filled  out  with  the 
wind.  The  little  black  figures  on  the  decks  were 
men. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more  below  us  we  saw 
a  rocky  projection  into  the  river.  I  proposed  to 
Wliitestone  that  w^e  ride  at  least  that  far  and 
decide  afterward  on  further  action. 

We  rode  rapidly,  but  before  we  w-ere  half- 
way to  the  place  we  met  men  running — fright- 
ened men  at  that.  Their  condition  of  mind 
showed  plainly  on  their  faces.  They  wore  militia 
uniforms,  and  we  knew  them  to  be  some  of  our 
citizen  soldiery,  who  are  sometimes  a  very 
speedy  lot,  not  being  trained  to  the  mihtary 
business.  We  tried  to  stop  them  and  find  out 
why  they  were  running  and  whence  they  came; 
but  all  we  could  get  out  of  them  w'as,  "  The 
British  are  coming,  with  a  hundred  ships  and 
forty  thousand  men!  "  At  last,  half  by  persua- 
sion and  half  by  force,  we  induced  one  man  to 
halt;  he  explained  that  he  had  been  sent 
with  the  others  to  man  a  battery  of  four  guns 
on  the  point.  When  they  saw  the  British  fleet 
coming,  some  of  the  raw^  militia  had  taken 
fright    and    fled,    carrying    the    others    with 

them. 

ta 


1/2 


THE    SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


''  But  the  ships  may  not  be  here  for  an 
hour,"  I  protested. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  he  said,  "  for  it  gives 
us  the  more  time." 

We  released  him,  and  he  followed  his  flyinc^ 
comrades.  Whitestone  and  I  looked  ruefully 
after  them,  but  I  suggested  that  we  continue 
our  ride  to  the  point.  Even  w'ith  the  ships 
abreast  us  in  the  river,  it  would  be  easy  for  us 
to  ride  away  and  escape  the  British.  We  rode 
as  rapidly  as  the  ground  would  allow,  and  soon 
reached  the  point  and  the  deserted  battery. 

I  could  have  sw^orn  with  vexation  at  the 
flight  of  our  militia.  It  was  a  pretty  battery, 
well  planted,  four  trim  eighteen  pounders, 
plenty  of  powder,  shot  neatly  piled,  and  a  ^^^ 
still  flying  from  a  tall  pole.  Whoever  selected 
the  place  for  the  battery  knew  his  business- 
which  does  not  always  happen  in  the  military 
life.  I  looked  again  in  the  direction  of  the 
fleeing  militia,  but  the  back  of  the  last  man  had 
disappeared. 

'*  What  a  pity!  "  I  said  regretfully  to  White- 
stone.  ''  At  least  they  might  have  trimmed  the 
rigging  a  little  for  those  British  ships  down 
yonder.' 


>> 


WE   MEET   THE   FLEET.  1 73 

"  I  don't  understand  one  thing,"  said  White- 
stone. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked. 

He  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  tapped 
the  bowl  of  it  significantly  with  the  index  linger 
of  his  left  hand. 

"  I  can  smoke  that  pipe,  can't  I?  "  he  asked. 

"I  should  think  so!" 

*'  So  could  you  if  you  had  a  chance,  couldn't 
you?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Those  men  who  ran  away  could  fire  a  can- 
non; so  could " 

*'  Do  you  mean  it,  Whitestone?  "  I  asked, 
the  blood  flying  to  my  head  at  the  thought. 

"Mean- it?  I  should  think  I  did,"  he  re- 
plied. "  I  used  to  be  in  the  artillery,  and  I  can 
handle  a  cannon  pretty  well.  So  can  you,  I 
think.  Here  are  the  cannon,  there's  ammuni- 
tion a-plenty,  and  over  us  flies  the  brand-new 
flag.    What  more  do  you  want?  " 

He  replaced  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  sat  down 
on  the  breech  of  a  gun,  and  gave  himself  up  to 
content.  I  looked  at  him  in  admiration.  I  ap- 
prove of  so  many  of  Whitestone's  ideas,  and 
I  liked  few  better  than  this.     I  was  young. 


174 


THE   SUN   OF    SARATOGA. 


"  Good  enough,  Whitestone,"  I  said.  "  I,  as 
commander,  indorse  the  suggestion  of  my  chief 
assistant." 

We  took  our  horses  out  of  the  range  of  the 
guns  on  the  ships  and  fastened  them  securely, 
as  we  were  thinking  of  our  future  needs.  Then 
we  came  back  to  our  battery.  Evidently  the 
original  defenders  had  desired  the  battery  to 
appear  very  formidable,  for  in  addition  to  their 
real  guns  they  had  planted  eight  Quaker  guns, 
which,  seen  from  tne  center  of  the  river,  would 
look  very  threatening,  I  had  no  doubt.  The 
four  guns,  genuine  and  true,  were  charged  al- 
most to  the  muzzle. 

"  I  think  they  have  seen  us,"  said  W  He- 
stone,  pointing  to  the  ships. 

It  was  a  strong  fleet — frigates  and  sloops. 
It  was  plain  that  they  had  seen  us  and  had  not 
been  expecting  us,  for  the  ships  were  taking 
in  sail  and  hovering  about  in  an  uncertain  way. 
Officers  in  gilt  and  gold  stood  on  their  decks 
watching  us  through  glasses. 

'"  Keep  down,  Whitestone,"  I  said.  "  We 
must  not  give  them  any  hint  as  to  the  size  of 
our  force." 

''  But  I  think  we  ought  to  give  'em  a  hint 


WE    MEET   THE    FLEET. 


1 75 


that  we're  loaded  for  bear,"  said  W'hitestone. 
"  What  do  you  say  to  a  shot  at  the  nearest 
h'igate,  ^Ir.  Shelby.     I  think  she  is  within  long- 


range." 


I  approved,  and  W'hitestone  fired.  In  the 
stillness  of  a  country  morn"ng  the  report  was 
frightfully  distinct,  and  the  echo  doubling  upon 
and  repeating  itself  seemed  to  travel  both  up 
and  down  the  river.  The  shot  was  well  aimed. 
It  smashed  right  into  the  frigate,  and  there 
was  confusion  on  her  decks.  I  fired  the  second 
gun,  and  down  came  some  spars  and  rigging 
on  the  same  ship.  Whitestone  rubbed  his  hands 
in  glee.  I  shouted  to  him  to  lie  close,  and 
obeyed  my  own  command  as  promptly  as  he. 
The  frigate  was  about  to  return  our  salute. 

She  swung  around  and  let  us  have  a  broad- 
side, which  did  great  damage  to  the  rocks  and 
the  shore.  But  Whitestone  and  I  remained 
cozy  and  safe.  A  large  sloop  came  up  closer 
than  the  frigate  and  fired  a  volley,  which  sailed 
I)eacefully  over  our  heads  and  made  a  prodi- 
gious disturbance  amono-  the  trees  bevond  us. 

"  Can  you  get  at  that  third  gun,  White- 
stone? " 

''  Nothing  easier!  " 


1-6  THE    SUX    OF   SARATO  '.A. 

*'  Then  give  that  spiteful  sloop  a  shot. 
Teach  her  it  isn't  safe  for  a  sloop  to  come 
where  a  frigate  can't  stay." 

Whitestone  obeyed,  and  his  shot  was  most 
glorious.  The  chunk  of  lead  struck  the  sloop 
between  wind  and  water  and  must  have  gone 
right  through  her,  for  presently  she  began  to 
sheer  off,  the  signs  of  distress  visible  all  over 
her,  as  if  she  were  taking  in  water  at  the  rate  of 
a  thousand  gallons  a  minute.  I  clapped  White- 
stone  on  the  back  and  shouted  ''  Hurrah!  " 

But  our  lucky  shot  had  stirred  up  the  full 
wrath  of  the  fleet.  The  ships  formed  in  line  of 
battle  and  opened  their  batteries  on  us,  firing 
sometimes  one  after  the  other,  and  sometimes 
nearly  all  together.  I  dare  say  the  cliffs  of  the 
Hudson,  in  all  their  long  existence,  have  never 
received  such  another  furious  bombardment. 
Oh,  it  was  a  bad  day  for  the  trees  and  the 
bushes  and  the  rocks,  which  were  beaten  and 
battered  and  cut  and  crushed  by  eighteen-pound 
shot  and  twelve-pound  shot  and  six-pound 
shot,  and  the  Lord  knows  what,  until  the  river 
itself  fell  into  a  rage  and  began  to  lash  its  waters 
into  a  turmoil! 

But  Whitestone  and  I,  with  all  this  infernal 


WE    MEET    THE    FLEET. 


1/7 


uproar  around  us,  lay  in  our  brave  earthworks 
as  snug  and  cozy  as  chipmunks,  and  laughed 
to  think  that  we  were  the  cause  of  it  all.  I 
rolled  over  to  W'hitestone  and  shouted  in  his 


ear: 


As  soon  as  the  eruption  diminishes  a  little 
we  will  try  a  fourth  shot  at  them!  " 

He  grinned,  and  both  of  us  embraced  the 
earth  for  some  minutes  longer.  Then  the  tire 
of  the  enemy  began  to  abate.  We  took  the 
iirst  chance  to  peep  out  at  them,  but  the  vol- 
ume of  smoke  over  the  river  was  so  great  and  so 
dense  that  we  could  see  the  ships  but  indis- 
tinctly. 

As  for  ourselves,  we  had  suffered  little.  One 
of  our  guns  was  dismounted,  but  it  was  a 
Ouaker,  and  no  harm  was  done.  The  fire  dying, 
the  clouds  cf  smoke  began  to  float  away  and 
the  ships  were  disclosed.  Whitestone  and  I, 
peeping  over  our  earthworks,  beheld  a  scene  of 
great  animation  and  excitement.  The  British 
were  working  hard;  there  was  no  doubt  of  it. 
The  bustle  on  the  decks  was  tremendous.  Offi- 
cers were  shouting  to  men  and  to  each  otner; 
men  were  reloading  cannon  and  making  every 
preparation  to  renew  the  bombardment  when 


178 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


their  officers  might  order  it.  One  frigate  had 
come  too  near,  and  was  grounded  sHghtly  in 
shallowing  water.  Her  crew  were  making  gi- 
gantic efforts  to  get  her  off  before  our  terrible 
battery  could  blow  her  to  pieces. 

The  captains  were  using  their  glasses  to  see 
what  was  left  of  us,  and  1  could  guess  their 
chagrin  when  they  beheld  us  looking  as  formi- 
dable and  as  whole  as  ever,  barring  the  dis- 
mounted Quaker.  Our  escape  from  injury  was 
not  so  wonderful  after  all.  We  defenders  were 
only  two,  and  we  made  a  very  small  target; 
while  if  the  battery  had  been  crowded  with 
men  the  death  rate  would  have  been  prodigi- 
ous. 

''There  goes  the  frigate!"  I  cried.  "  They've 
got  her  off!  Give  her  a  good-by  as  she  goes, 
Whitestone!  " 

He  was  lying  next  to  the  fourth  gun,  and  he 
instantly  sent  a  shot  smashing  into  the  ves- 
sel. But  the  shot  was  like  a  veritable  torch 
to  a  powder  magazine,  for  the  fleet  attacked 
us  again  with  every  gun  it  could  bring  to  bear. 
The  first  bombardment  seemed  to  have  aroused 
fresh  spirit  and  energy  for  the  second,  and 
Whitestone  and  I,  taking  no  chances  with  peeps, 


WE   MEET   THE   FLEET. 


1/9 


thrust  our  fingers  into  our  cars  and  our  heads 
into  the  ground. 

But  we  could  not  keep  out  the  heavy  crash- 
crash  of  the  volleys,  blending  now  and  then  into 
a  continuous  roar,  which  the  river  and  the 
horizon  took  up  and  repeated.  King  George 
must  have  had  a  pretty  powder-and-shot  bill  to 
pay  for  that  day's  work. 

The  clouds  of  smoke  gathered  in  a  vast 
black  canopy  over  river  and  ships,  shore  and 
battery.  Under  and  through  it  appeared  now 
and  then  the  dark  lines  of  spars  and  ropes,  and 
always  the  blazing  flash  of  many  great  guns. 
If  the  stony  shores  of  the  Hudson  did  not  suffer 
niLSt  grievously,  let  it  not  be  charged  against 
the  British,  for  they  displayed  a  spirit  and  ener- 
gy, if  not  a  marksmanship,  worthy  of  their  repu- 
tation. 

I  rejoiced  at  the  vigor  of  their  fire.  Its 
volume  was  so  great,  and  they  must  be  work- 
ing so  hard,  that  they  could  not  know  the  bat- 
tery was  making  no  answer. 

By  and  by  the  cannoneers  waxed  weary  of 
loading  and  firing,  and  the  officers  of  giving 
orders.  The  crash  of  the  great  guns  became 
more  infrequent.    The  flash  of  the  powder  bore 


l8o  THE   SUN    OF   SARATOGA. 

less  reseml)lance  to  continuous  lightning.  The 
smoke  begin  to  drift  away.  Then  the  defender? 
of  the  battery  rose  up  in  their  courage  and 
strength,  reloaded  their  guns,  and  opened  fire 
on  the  fleet. 

I  love  to  think  that  the  British  were  sur- 
prised most  unpleasantly.  Their  fire  was  wan- 
ing, but  ours  was  not,  it  seemed  to  them.  The 
mischievous  little  battery  was  still  there,  and 
they  had  neither  reduced  it  nor  passed  it.  It 
was  mirth  to  us  to  think  how  easily  they  could 
pass  us,  and  yet  preferred  to  reduce  us. 

"  By  all  that's  glorious,"  exclaimed  White- 
stone,  "  they're  retreating!  " 

It  was  so.  The  ships  were  hauling  off, 
whether  to  refit  for  another  attack  or  to  con- 
sult for  future  action  we  did  not  know.  We 
gave  them  a  few  shots  as  they  drew  away,  and 
presently  they  anchored  out  of  range.  Boats 
were  launched,  and  men  in  gold-laced  caps  and 
coats  were  rowed  to  the  largest  frigate. 

"  The  admiral  has  called  a  conference,  I 
guess,"  I  said  to  Whitestone. 

He  nodded,  and  we  inspected  our  battery  to 
see  how  it  had  stood  the  second  bombardment. 
Two  more  Quaker  guns  were  dismounted,  but 


WE    MEET    THE    FLEET.  l8i 

one  of  them  we  were  able  to  put  again  into  fair- 
ly presentable  condition.  That  done,  we  iook 
some  refreshment  from  our  knapsacks,  and 
awaited  in  calmness  the  next  movement  of  our 
enemies.  As  it  was,  we  flattered  ourselves  that 
we  had  made  a  gallant  fight. 

We  waited  a  half  hour,  and  then  a  boat 
put  out  from  the  big  frigate.  Besides  the 
uarsmen,  it  contained  a  richly  dressed  offi- 
cer and  a  white  flag.  They  came  directly  to- 
ward us. 

*'  A  flag  of  truce  and  a  conference,"  I  said. 
"  Shall  we  condescend,  Whitestone?  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  Whitestone.  ''We 
ought  to  hear  what  they  liave  to  say." 

"  Then  you  remain  in  command  of  the  bat- 
tery," I  said,  "  and  I  will  meet  the  officer." 

I  scrambled  down  the  high  cliff  to  the 
water's  tdge  and  awaited  the  boat,  which  I 
was  determined  should  not  come  too  near. 
When  it  came  within  speaking  distance,  I  hailed 
the  officer  and  ordered  him  to  stop. 

*'  I  am  Captain  Middleton,"  he  called,  "  and 
I  am  commissioned  by  our  commander  to  speak 
to  your  commander." 

"  General  Arnold  saw  you  coming,"  I  said, 


l82  THE    SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

"  and  sent  me  to  meet  you  and  hear  what  you 
have  to  say." 

"  General  iVrnold!  "  he  exclaimed  in  sur- 
prise. 

'*  Yes,  General  Arnold,  the  commander  of 
our  battery,"  I  replied. 

I  mentioned  General  Arnold  because  of  his 
great  reputation  then  as  a  fighting  general. 
And  a  fighting  general  he  was,  too;  I  will 
say  it,  traitor  though  he  afterward  proved 
to  be. 

"  I  thought  General  Arnold  was  with 
Gates,"  said  the  ofiicer. 

"  Oh,  they  quarreled,"  I  replied  airily,  which 
was  the  truth,  "  and  General  Arnold,  being  re- 
lieved of  his  command  up  there,  has  come  down 
here  to  fight  this  battery.  You  have  seen  for 
yourself  that  he  knows  how  to  do  it." 

*'  It  is  true,"  he  said,  "  your  fire  was  very 
warm." 

He  looked  up  at  the  battery,  but  I  would 
not  let  him  come  within  fifty  feet  of  the  shore, 
and  he  could  see  nothing  save  the  earthworks 
and  some  of  the  gun  muzzles. 

"  It  can  be  made  warmer,"  I  said  confident- 
ly, not  boastingly. 


WE   MEET    THE   FLEET. 


183 


"  I  have  come  to  summon  you  to  surrender," 
he  said.    "  We  will  offer  you  good  terms." 

"  Surrender!  "  I  laughed  in  scorn.  ''  Why, 
my  dear  captain,  you  have  made  no  impression 
upon  us  yet,  while  we  have  scarred  your  ships 
a  bit." 

"  That  is  a  fact,"  he  said.  "  You  have 
handled  your  eighteen-pounders  well." 

"  Twenty-four  pounders,"  I  corrected. 

"  I  did  not  know  they  were  so  heavy,"  he 
said.  ''  That  accounts  for  the  strength  of  your 
fire." 

He  seemed  pleased  at  the  discovery.  It 
made  an  excuse  for  his  side. 

*'  No  doubt  General  Arnold  can  do  some- 
thing with  a  battery  of  twelve  twenty-four 
pounders,"  he  began. 

"  Eighteen  twenty-four  pounders,"  I  cor- 
rected.   ''  You  can  not  see  all  the  muzzles." 

He  looked  very  thoughtful.  I  knew  that 
he  was  impressed  by  the  exceeding  strength  of 
our  battery. 

"  But  about  the  proposition  to  surrender,'' 
he  began, 

*'  I  will  not  take  such  an  offer  to  General 
Arnold,"  I  exclaimed  indignantly.     **  In  fact,  I 


1 84  THE    SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

have  my  instructions  from  him.  He'll  sink 
every  ship  you  have,  or  be  blown  to  pieces  him- 
self." 

Captain  I^Iiddleton,  after  this  emphatic 
declaration,  which.  1  am  sure  I  made  in  a  most 
convincing  manner,  seemed  to  think  further 
talk  would  be  a  waste,  and  gave  the  word  to  his 
oarsmen  to  pull  back  to  his  ship. 

*'  Good  day,"  he  said  very  courteously. 

''  Good  day,"  said  I  with  equal  coui  tesy. 
Then  I  climbed  back  up  the  cliff  and  re-enforced 
the  garrison.  I  watched  Middleton  as  he  ap- 
proached the  flagship.  He  mounted  to  the 
deck  and  the  ofBcers  crowded  around  him.  In 
a  half  hour  the  ships  bore  up  again,  formed  line 
of  battle,  and  opened  upon  us  a  third  terrific 
bombardment,  which  we  endured  with  the  same 
calmness  and  success.  When  they  grew  tired 
we  gave  them  a  few  shots,  which  did  some  exe- 
cution, and  then,  to  our  infinite  delight,  they 
slipped  their  cables  and  fell  back  down  the  river. 

"  When  they  find  out  what  we  really  are 
they'll  come  again  to-morrow  and  blow  us  to 
spHnters,"  said  Whitestone. 

"  Yes,  but  well  be  far  away  from  here  then," 
said  I,  "  and  we  may  have  held  them  back  a 


WE   MEET   THE   FLEET.  1 85 

day  at  least.  Why,  man,  even  an  hour  is  worth 
much  to  our  army  up  yonder!  " 

We  were  in  a  state  of  supreme  satisfaction, 
also  in  a  state  of  hurry.  There  was  nothing- 
more  for  us  to  do  in  the  south,  and  it  was  our 
business  to  hasten  northward  with  the  news  we 
had.  I  rejoiced  greatly.  I  hoped  that  Clinton 
would  continue  to  fiddle  his  time  away  below 
Albany,  impressed  by  the  risks  he  w^as  taking, 
thanks  to  our  brave  battery. 

We  found  our  horses  nearly  dead  from  fright, 
but  a  few  kicks  restored  life,  and  we  rode  north- 
ward in  all  haste.  At  Albany  we  changed 
horses,  evaded  questions,  and  resumed  our  ride. 
In  the  night  we  reached  our  own  camp,  and  as 
soon  as  we  had  reported  sought  the  rest  we 
needed  so  badly,  and,  I  think,  deserved  so  well. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    PURSUIT    OF    CHUDLEIGH. 

Having  returned,  I  expected  to  share  in  the 
pursuit  of  Burgoyne,  and  wondered  to  what  par- 
ticular duty  I  would  be  assigned.  But  a  man 
never  knows  at  seven  o'clock  what  he  will 
be  doing  at  eight  o'clock,  and  before  eight 
o'clock  had  come  I  was  called  by  the  colonel 
of  our  regiment. 

"  Mr.  Shelby,"  he  said,  "  you  have  already 
shown  yourself  intelligent  and  vigilant  on  im_- 
portant  service." 

I  listened,  feeling  sure  that  I  was  going  to 
have  something  very  disagreeable  to  do.  You 
can  depend  upon  it  when  your  superior  begins 
with  formal  flattery.  I  had  just  finished  one  im- 
portant task,  but  the  more  you  do  the  more 
people  expect  of  you. 

''  One  of  our  prisoners  has  escaped,"  he  said; 

"  a  keen-witted  man  who  knows  the  country. 

i86 


THE   PURSUIT  OF   CHUDLEIGII.  187 

He  has  escaped  to  the  south.  As  you  know  so 
well.  Sir  Henry  Clinton  is,  or  has  been,  advanc- 
ing up  the  Hudson  with  a  strong  force  to  the 
aid  of  Burgoyne,  whom  nothing  else  can  save 
from  us.  This  man — this  prisoner  who  has  es- 
caped— must  not  be  permitted  to  reach  Clinton 
with  the  news  that  Burgoyne  is  almost  done 
for.  It  was  important  before  the  last  battle 
that  no  messenger  from  Burgoyne  should  pass 
through  our  Hues;  it  is  still  more  important  to- 
day.   You  understand?  " 

I  bowed,  as  a  sign  that  I  understood. 

*•  This  escaped  prisoner  knows  everything 
that  has  happened,"  he  resumed,  "  and  he  must 
])e  overtaken.  He  will  probably  follow  the 
direct  road  along  the  river,  as  he  knows  that 
haste  is  necessary.  How  many  men  do  you 
want?" 

I  named  Whitestone  and  a  private,  a  strong, 
ready-witted  fellow  named  Adams. 

*'  What  is  the  name  of  the  man  we  are  to 
capture?  "  I  asked. 

"  Chudleigh — Captain    Ralph     Chudleigh," 

he  replied.     "  A  tall  man,  dark  hair  and  eyes, 

twenty-six  to  twenty-eight  years  of  age.      Do 

you  know  him?  " 
13 


1 88  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

I  replied  that  I  knew  him. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  our  colonel  with 
much  delight.  "  Aside  from  your  other  quali- 
fications, Air.  Shelby,  you  are  the  man  of  all 
men  for  this  duty.  Chudleigh  will  undoubtedly 
attempt  to  disguise  himself,  but  since  you  know 
him  so  well  he  can  scarce  hide  his  face  from 
you.  But  remember  that  he  must  be  taken, 
dead  or  alive." 

I  had  not  much  relish  for  the  mission  in  the 
first  place,  and,  for  reasons,  less  relish  when  I 
knew  that  Chudleigh  was  the  man  whom  I  was 
to  take.  But  in  such  affairs  as  these  it  is  per- 
mitted to  the  soldier  to  choose  only  the  one 
thing,  and  that  is,  to  obey. 

We  set  out  at  once  over  the  same  road  we 
had  traveled  twice  so  recently.  Three  good 
horses  had  been  furnished  us,  and  we  were  well 
armed.  For  a  while  w^e  rode  southward  with 
much  speed,  and  soon  left  behind  us  the  last 
detachment  of  our  beleaguering  arrny. 

One  question  perplexed  me:  Would  Chud- 
leigh be  in  his  own  British  uniform,  which  he 
wore  when  he  escaped,  or  did  he  manage  to  take 
away  wath  him  some  rags  of  Continental  attire, 
in  which  he  would  clothe  himself  first  chance? 


THE   rURSUIT   OF  CHUDLEIGH.  189 

I  could  answer  it  only  by  watching  for  all  men 
of  suspicious  appearance,  no  matter  the  cut  or 
color  of  their  clothing. 

We  galloped  along  a  fair  road,  but  we  met 
no  one.  Quiet  travelers  shun  ground  trodden 
by  armies.  It  was  past  the  noon  hour  when  we 
came  to  a  small  house  not  far  from  the  road- 
side. We  found  the  farmer  who  owned  it  at 
home,  and  in  answer  to  our  questions,  fairly 
spoken,  he  said  three  men  had  passed  that  day, 
two  going  north  and  one  going  south, all  dressed 
as  ordinary  citizens.  I  was  particularly  in- 
terested in  the  one  going  south,  and  asked  more 
aljout  him. 

''  He  was  tall,  dark,  and  young,"  said  the 
farmer.  *'  He  looked  like  a  man  of  small  conse- 
quence, for  his  clothing  was  ragged  and  his  face 
not  overclean.  He  wanted  food,  and  he  ate 
with  much  appetite." 

I  asked  if  the  man  had  paid  for  his  dinner, 
and  the  farmer  showed  me  silver  fresh  from  the 
British  mint.  I  could  well  believe  that  this 
was  Chudleigh.  However  wary  and  circum- 
spect he  might  be  he  was  bound  to  have  food, 
and  he  could  find  it  only  by  going  to  the  houses 
he  saw  on  his  southern  journey. 


190 


THE   SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 


I  was  confirmed  in  my  belief  an  hour  later, 
when  we  met  a  countryman  on  foot,  who  at 
first  evinced  a  great  desire  to  run  away  from 
us,  but  who  stopped,  seeing  our  uniforms.  Pie 
explained  that  he  knew  not  whom  to  trust,  for 
a  short  while  before  he  was  riding  like  ourselves; 
now  he  had  no  horse;  a  ragged  man  meeting 
him  in  the  road  had  presented  a  pistol  at  his 
head  and  ordered  him  to  give  up  his  horse, 
which  he  did  with  much  promptness,  as  the 
man's  finger  lay  very  caressingly  upon  the  trig- 
ger of  the  pistol. 

"  That  was  Chudleigh  without  doubt,"  I  said 
to  Whitestone,  "  and  since  he  also  is  now- 
mounted  we  must  have  a  race  for  it." 

He  agreed  with  me,  and  we  v/hipped  our 
horses  into  a  gallop  again.  In  reality  I  had 
not  much  acquaintance  with  Chudleigh,  but  I 
trusted  that  I  w^ould  know  his  face  anywhere. 
Secure  in  this  belief  we  pressed  on.  . 

"Unless  he's  left  the  road  to  hide — and  that's 
not  probable,  for  he  can't  afYord  delay — we 
ought  to  overhaul  him  soon,"  said  Whitestone. 

The  road  led  up  and  down  a  series  of  lightly 
undulating  hills.  Just  when  w^e  reached  one 
crest  we  saw  the  back  of  a  horseman  on  the 


THE   PURSUIT   OF  CHUDLEIGII. 


191 


next  crest,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  ahead  of 
us.  By  a  species  of  intuition  1  knew  that  it  was 
Chudleigh.  Aside  from  my  intuition,  all  the 
probabilities  indicated  Chudleigh,  for  we  had 
the  word  of  the  dismounted  farmer  that  his  lead 
of  us  was  but  short. 

''That's  our  man!"  exclaimed  Whitestone, 
echoing  our  thought. 

As  if  by  the  same  impulse,  all  three  of  us 
clapped  spur  to  horse,  and  forward  we  went  at 
a  gallop  that  sent  the  wind  rushing  past  us. 
We  were  much  too  far  away  for  the  fugitive 
to  hear  the  hoof-beats  of  our  horses,  but  by 
chance,  I  suppose,  he  happened  to  look  back 
and  saw  us  coming  at  a  pace  that  indicated 
zeal.  I  saw  him  give  his  mount  a  great  kick 
in  the  side,  and  the  horse  bounded  forward  so 
promptly  that  in  thirty  seconds  the  curve  of  the 
hill  hid  both  borse  and  rider  from  our  view.  But 
that  was  not  a  matter  discouraging  to  us.  The 
river  was  on  one  side  of  us  not  far  away,  and 
on  the  other  cultivated  fields  inclosed  with 
fences.  Chudleigh  could  not  leave  the  road 
unless  he  dismounted.  He  was  bound  to  do  one 
of  two  things,  outgallop  us  or  yield. 

We  descended  our  hill  and  roon  rose  upon 


192 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


the  slope  of  Cliudlelgh's.  When  we  reached 
the  crest,  we  saw  him  in  the  hollow  beyond 
urging  his  horse  to  its  best  speed.  He  was 
bent  far  over  upon  the  animal's  neck,  and  qc- 
casionally  he  gave  him  lusty  kicks  in  the 
side.  It  was  evident  to  us  that  whatever 
speed  might  be  in  that  horse  Chudleigh  would 
get  it  out  of  him.  And  so  wouid  I,  thought 
I,  if  I  were  in  his  place.  A  fugitive  could 
scarce  have  more  inducement  than  Chudleigh 
to  escape. 

Measuring  the  distance  with  my  eye,  I  con- 
cluded that  we  had  gained  a  little.  I  drew  from 
it  the  inference  that  we  would  certainly  over- 
take him.  Moreover,  Chudleigh  was  making 
the  mistake  of  pushing  his  horse  too  hard  at 
the  start. 

It  is  better  to  pursue  than  to  be  pursued, 
and  a  great  elation  of  spirits  seized  me.  The 
cool  air  rushing  into  my  face  and  past  my  ears 
put  bubbles  in  my  blood. 

"  This  beats  watching  houses  in  the  night, 
does  it  not,  Whitestone?  "  I  said. 

"  Aye,  truly,"  replied  the  sober  sergeant, 
"  unless  he  has  a  pistol  and  concludes  to  use 
it." 


THE   PURSUIT  OF  CHUDLEIGIL 


193 


"  We  will  not  fire  until  he  does,  or  shows 
intent  to  do  so,"  I  said. 

Whitestone  and  Adams  nodded  assent,  and 
we  eased  our  horses  a  bit  that  we  might  save 
their  strength  and  speed.  This  maneuver  en- 
abled the  fugitive  to  gain  slightly  upon  us,  but 
we  ^clt  no  alarm;  instead  we  were  encouraged, 
for  his  horse  was  sure  to  become  blown  before 
ours  put  forth  their  best  efforts. 

Chudleigh  raised  up  once  to  look  back  at 
us.  Of  course  it  was  too  far  for  us  to  see  the 
expression  of  his  face,  but  in  my  ima:^ination 
anxiety  was  plainly  writ  there. 

"  How  long  a  race  will  it  be,  do  you  think?  " 
I  asked  Whitestone. 

''  About  four  miles,"  he  said,  "  unless  a 
stumble  upsets  our  calculations,  and  I  don't 
think  we'll  have  the  latter,  for  the  road  looks 
smooth  all  the  w^ay." 

The  fugitive  began  to  kick  his  horse  with 
more  frequency,  which  indicated  increased  anx- 
iety. 

"  It  won't  be  four  miles,"  I  said  to  White- 
stone. 

"You're  right,"  he  replied;  "maybe  not 
three." 


194 


THE   SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 


In  truth  it  looked  as  if  Whitestone's  second 
thought  were  right.  We  began  to  gain  without 
the  necessity  of  urging  our  horses.  Chudleigh 
already  had  driven  his  own  animal  to  exhaus- 
tion. I  doubted  if  the  race  would  be  a  matter 
of  two  miles.  I  wondered  why  he  did  not  try 
a  shot  at  us  with  his  pistols.  Bullets  are  often 
great  checks  to  the  speed  of  pursuers,  and  Chud- 
leigh must  have  known  it. 

At  the  end  of  a  mile  we  w^ere  gaining  so 
rapidly  that  we  could  have  reached  the  fugitive 
with  a  pistol  ball,  but  I  was  averse  to  such  rude 
methods,  doubly  so  since  he  showed  no  intent 
on  his  own  part  to  resort  to  them. 

A  half  mile  ahead  of  us  I  saw  a  small  house 
in  a  field  by  the  roadside,  but  I  took  no  thought 
of  it  until  Chudleigh  reached  a  parallel  point 
in  the  road;  then  we  were  surprised  to  see  him 
leap  to  the  ground,  leave  his  horse  to  go  where 
it  would,  climb  the  fence,  and  rush  toward  the 
house.  He  pushed  the  door  open,  ran  in,  and 
closed  it  behind  him. 

I  concluded  that  he  had  given  up  all  hope  of 
escape  except  through  a  desperate  defense,  and 
I  made  hasty  disposition  of  my  small  command. 
I  was  to  approach  the  house  from  one  side, 


THE    PURSUIT   OF   CHUDLEIGH. 


195 


Whitestone  from  another,  and  Adams  from  a 
third. 

We  hitched  our  horses  and  began  our  siege 
of  the  house,  from  which  no  sound  issued.  I 
approached  from  the  front,  using  a  fence  as 
shelter.  When  I  was  within  half  a  pistol  shot 
the  door  of  the  house  was  thrown  open  with 
much  force  and  rudeness,  and  a  large  woman, 
a  cocked  musket  in  her  hand  and  anger  on  her 
face,  appeared.  She  saw  me,  and  began  to  be- 
rate me  rapidly  and  wrathfully,  at  the  same  time 
making  threatening  movements  with  the  mus- 
ket. She  cried  out  that  she  had  small  use  for 
those  who  were  Tories  now  and  Americans 
then,  and  robbers  and  murderers  always.  I 
explained  that  we  were  x\merican  soldiers 
in  pursuit  of  an  escaped  prisoner  of  impor- 
tance who  had  taken  refuge  in  her  house, 
and  commanded  her  to  stand  aside  and  let  us 
pass. 

For  answer  she  berated  me  more  than  ever, 
saying  that  it  was  but  a  pretext  about  a  prisoner, 
and  her  husband  was  a  better  American  than 
we.  That  put  a  most  uncomfortable  suspicion 
in  my  mind,  and,  summoning  Whitestone,  we 
held  parley  vvith  her. 


IC)6  THE   SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 

"  Yon  have  pursued  my  husband  until  there 
is  scarce  a  breath  left  in  his  body,"  she  said. 

Whereupon,  having  pacified  her  to  some  ex- 
tent, we  went  into  the  house  and  found  that  she 
spoke  the  truth.  Her  husband  was  stretched 
upon  a  bed  quite  out  of  breath,  in  part  from  his 
gallop  and  more  from  fright.  We  could  scarce 
persuade  him  that  we  were  not  those  outlaws 
who  belonged  to  neither  army  but  who  preyed 
upon  whomsoever  they  could. 

Making  such  brief  apologies  as  the  time  al- 
lowed, we  mounted  our  horses  and  resumed  the 
search. 

''  It  was  a  mistake,"  said  Whitestone. 

I  admitted  that  he  spoke  the  truth,  and  re- 
solved I  would  trust  no  more  to  intuitions, 
which  are  sent  but  to  deceive  us. 

Anxiety  now  took  me  in  a  strong  grip.  Our 
mistaken  chase  had  caused  us  to  come  very  fast, 
and  since  we  saw  nothing  of  Chudleigh,  I  feared 
lest  we  had  passed  him  in  some  manner.  It 
therefore  cheered  me  much,  a  half  hour  later, 
when  I  saw  a  stout  man,  whom  I  took  to  be  a 
farmer,  joggin^^  comfortably  toward  us  on  a 
stout  nag  as  comfortable-looking  as  himself. 
He  was  not  like  tht  other,  suspicious  and  afraid, 


THE   PURSUIT   OF  CHUDLEIGIL 


197 


and  I  was  glad  of  it,  for  I  said  to  myself  that 
here  was  a  man  of  steady  habit  an  1  intelligence, 
a  man  who  would  tell  us  the  truth  and  tell  it 
clearly. 

He  came  on  in  most  peaceable  and  assuring 
fashion,  as  if  not  a  soldier  were  within  a  thou- 
sand miles  of  him.  I  hailed  him,  and  he  replied 
with  a  pleasant  salutation. 

"  Have  you  met  a  man  riding  southward?  " 
I  said. 

*'  What  kind  of  a  man?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  large  man  in  citizen's  dress,"  I  replied. 

"Young,  or  old?" 

"  Young — twenty-six  or  twenty-eight." 

**  Anything  else  special  about  him?  " 

"  Dark  hair  and  eyes  and  dark  complexion; 
liis  horse  probably  very  tired." 

"  What  do  you  want  with  this  man?  "  he 
asked,  stroking  a  red  whisker  with  a  contem- 
plative hand. 

**  He  is  an  escaped  prisoner,"  I  replied,  ''  and 
it  is  of  the  greatest  importance  that  we  recap- 
ture him." 

'*  Did  you  say  he  was  rather  young?  Looked 
like  he  might  be  six  and  twenty  or  eight  and 
twenty?  "  he  asked. 


1^8  THE   SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 

"  Yes,  that  is  he,"  I  said  eagerly. 

''  Tall,  rather  large?  " 

"  The  very  man." 

*'  Dark  hair  and  eyes  and  dark  complex- 
ion?" 

"Exactly!    Exactly!" 

"  His  horse  very  tired?  " 

''  Our  man  beyond  a  doubt!  Which  way 
did  he  go?  " 

'*  Gentlemen,  I  never  saw  or  heard  of  such 
a  man,"  he  replied  gravely,  laying  switch  to  his 
horse  and  riding  on. 

We  resumed  our  journey,  vexation  keeping 
us  silent  for  some  time. 

'*  Our  second  mistake,"  said  Wliitestone  at 
length. 

As  I  did  not  answer,  he  added: 

*'  But  the  third  time  means  luck." 

'*  I  doubt  it,"  I  replied.  My  disbeUef  in  signs 
and  omens  was  confirmed  by  the  failure  of  my 
intuition. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    TAKING    OF    CHUDLEIGH. 

We  were  forced  to  ride  with  some  slowness 
owing  to  the  blown  condition  of  our  horses,  and 
anxiety  began  to  gnaw  me  to  the  marrow.  We 
had  come  so  fast  that  the  time  to  overtake 
Chudleigh,  if  in  truth  we.  had  not  passed  him 
already,  had  arrived.  In  such  calculations  I  was 
interrupted  by  the  sight  of  a  loose  horse  in  the 
road,  saddled  and  bridled,  but  riderless.  He 
was  in  a  lather,  like  ours,  and  I  guessed  at  once 
that  this  w^as  the  horse  Chudleigh  had  taken. 
In  some  manner — perhaps  he  had  seen  us, 
though  unseen  himself — he  had  learned  that  he 
was  pursued  hotly,  and,  fearing  to  be  overtaken, 
had  abandoned  his  horse  and  taken  to  the  woods 
and  fields.     Such  at  least  was  my  guess. 

I  esteemed  it  great  good  luck  when  I  saw 
a  man  standing  in  the  edge  of  a  cornfield  star- 
ing at  us.     He  was  a  common-looking  fellow 

igg 


200  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

with  a  dirty  face.  Stupid,  I  thought,  but  per- 
haps he  has  seen  what  happened  here  and  can 
tell  me.  I  hailed  him,  and  he  answered  in  a  thick 
voice,  though  not  unfriendly.  I  asked  him 
about  the  horse,  and  if  he  knew  who  had  aban- 
doned him  there.  He  answered  with  that  de- 
gree of  excitement  a  plowboy  would  most 
likely  show  on  such  occasions  that  he  was  just 
going  to  tell  us  about  it.  I  bade  him  haste  with 
his  narration. 

He  said,  with  thick,  excited  tongue,  that  a 
man  had  come  along  the  road  urging  his  horse 
into  a  gallop.  When  they  reached  the  field 
the  horse  broke  down  and  would  go  no  farther. 
The  rider,  after  belaboring  him  in  vain,  leaped 
down,  and,  leaving  the  horse  to  care  for  him- 
self, turned  from  the  road. 

This  news  excited  Whitestone,  Adams,  and 
me.  It  was  confirmation  of  our  suspicions,  and 
proof  also  that  we  were  pressing  Chudleigh  hard. 

'*  Hov^  long  ago  was  that?  "  I  asked. 

"  Not  five  minutes,"  replied  the  plowman. 

"  Which  way  did  he  go?  "  I  asked,  my  ex- 
citement increasing. 

"  He  took  the  side  road  yonder,"  replied  the 
plowman. 


THE   TAKING  OF   CIIUDLEIGII.  201 

*'  What  road? "  exclaimed  W'hitestone, 
breaking  in. 

*'  The  road  that  leads  off  to  the  right — yon- 
der, at  the  end  of  the  field." 

I  was  about  to  set  off  in  a  gallop,  but  it  oc- 
curred to  me  as  a  happy  thought  that  this  fel- 
low, knowing  the  country  so  well,  would  be 
useful  as  a  guide.  I  ordered  him  to  get  on  the 
loose  horse,  now  somewhat  rested,  and  lead  the 
wav.  He  demurred.  But  it  was  no  time  to  be 
squeamish  or  overpolite,  so  I  drew  my  pistol 
and  warned  him.  Thereupon  he  showed  him- 
self a  man  of  judgment  and  mounted,  and 
taking  the  lead  of  us,  obedient  to  my  com- 
ma';d,  also  showed  himself  to  be  a  very  fair 
horseman. 

In  a  few  seconds  we  entered  the  diverging 
road,  which  was  narrow,  scarce  more  than  a 
path.  It  led  between  two  fields,  and  then 
through  some  thin  woods. 

''  You  are  military  folks,"  said  our  guide, 
turning  a  look  upon  me.  "  Is  the  man  you  are 
after  a  deserter?  " 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  a  spy." 

''  If  you  overtake  him  and  he  fights,  I  don't 
have  any  part  in  it,"  he  said. 


202  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

"  You  needn't  risk  your  skin,"  I  said.  "  It 
is  enough  for  you  to  guide  us." 

I  laughed  a  bit  at  his  cowardice;  but  after 
all  I  had  no  right  to  laugh.  It  was  no  business 
of  his  to  do  our  fighting  for  us. 

"  Perhaps  he  has  turned  into  these  woods," 
said  Whitestone. 

"  No,  he  has  gone  on,"  said  our  guide,  '*  I 
can  see  his  footsteps  in  the  dust." 

Traces  like  those  of  human  footsteps  were 
in  truth  visible  in  the  dust,  but  we  had  no  time 
to  stop  for  examination.  We  rode  on,  watching 
the  country  on  either  side  of  the  road.  The 
heat  and  animation  of  the  chase  seemed  to  af- 
fect our  guide,  heavy  plowman  though  he  was. 

''  There  go  his  tracks  still!  "  he  cried.  ''  See, 
by  the  edge  of  the  road,  by  the  grass  there?  " 

"  We'll  catch  him  in  five  minutes!  "  cried 
Adams,  full  of  enthusiasm. 

Our  guide  was  ten  feet  in  front  of  me,  lean- 
ing over  and  looking  about  with  much  eager- 
ness. A  curve  in  the  road  two  or  three  hun- 
dred yards  ahead  became  visible.  Suddenly  I 
noticed  an  increase  of  excitement  in  the  expres- 
sion of  our  guide. 

"  I  see  him!    I  see  him!  "  he  cried. 


THE   TAKING  OF   CHUDLEIGII. 


203 


"  Where?     Where?  "  I  shouted. 

"  Yonder!  yonder!  Don't  you  see,  just, 
turning'  tlie  curve  in  the  road?  There!  He  has 
seen  us  too,  and  is  drawin^^  a  pistol.  Gentle- 
men, remember  your  agreement:  I'm  not  to  do 
any  of  the  fighting.     I  will  fall  back." 

"All  right!"  I  cried.  "You've  done  your 
share  of  the  business.  Drop  back. — Forward, 
W'hitestone!    We've  got  our  man  now!  " 

In  a  high  state  of  excitement  we  whipped 
our  horses  forward,  paying  no  further  at  ten- 
lion  to  the  plowman,  for  whom  in  trutli  we 
lu'id  use  no  longer.  Our  horses  seemed  to  share 
our  zeal,  and  recalled  their  waning  strength  and 
spirits.  Forward  we  went  at  a  fine  pace,  all 
three  of  us  straining  our  eyes  to  catch  the  fn'st 
i^Iimpse  of  the  fugitive  when  we  should  turn 
the  curve  around  the  hill. 

"  Two  to  one  I  beat  you,  Whitestone!  "  I 
said. 

"  Then  you'll  have  to  push  your  horse  more," 
said  the  sergeant,  whose  mount  was  neck  and 
neck  with  mine. 

In  truth  it  looked  as  if  he  would  pass  me, 

but  I  managed  to  draw  a  supreme  effort  from 

my  horse  and  we  went  ahead  a  little.     How- 
14 


204 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


c\cr,  T  retained  the  advantage  1)ut  a  few  mo- 
ments. W'hitestone  crept  up  again,  and  we 
continued  to  race  neck  and  neck.  Adams,  upon 
whom  we  had  not  counted  as  a  formida1)le  an- 
tagon.ist,  overliauled  us,  though  he  could  not 
pass  us. 

Thus  we  three,  side  by  side,  swept  around 
the  curve,  and  the  command  to  the  fugitive  to 
halt  and  surrender  was  ready  upon  our  lips. 

The  turn  of  the  curve  brought  us  into  a  wide 
and  bare  plain,  and  we  pulled  up  astonished. 
Nowhere  was  a  human  being  visible,  and  upon 
that  naked  expanse  concealment  was  impos- 
sible. 

We  stared  at  each  other  in  amazement,  and 
tlien  in  shame.  The  truth  of  the  trick  struck 
me  like  a  rifle  shot.  Why  did  I  wait  until  he 
was  gone  to  remember  something  familiar  in 
the  voice  of  that  plowman,  something  known 
in  the  expression  of  that  face?  I  think  the 
truth  came  to  me  first,  but  before  I  said  any- 
thing W'hitestone  ejaculated: 

"Chudleigh!" 

"  Without  doubt,"  I  replied. 
"  I  told  vou  the  third  time  would  not  fail.' 
he  said. 


THE  TAKING   OF   CHUDLEIGII.  205 

"  I  wish  it  had  failed,"  I  exclaimed  in 
wrath    and    fnry.    "  for    he    has    made    fools    of 

We  wheeled  our  horses  al)ont  as  if  they 
turned  on  ])ivots  and  raced  hack  after  the  wily 
])l()wman.  I  swore  to  myself  a  mighty  oath 
that  1  would  cease  to  he  certain  ahout  the 
identity  of  anyhody,  even  of  Whitestone  him- 
self. W'hitestone  swore  out  loud  ahout  a  variety 
of  tilings,  and  Adams  was  equal  to  his  oppor- 
tunities. 

Wq  were  speedily  back  in  the  main  road. 
1  doubted  not  that  Chudleigh  had  hurried  on 
toward  the  south.  In  truth  he  could  not  afford 
to  do  otherwise,  and  he  would  profit  as  fast 
as  he  could  1)y  the  breathing  space  obtained 
through  the  trick  he  had  played  upon  us.  1 
wondered  at  the  man's  courage  and  presence 
of  mind,  and  it  was  a  marvel  that  we  had  not 
gone  much  farther  on  the  wrong  road  before 
detecting  the  stratagem. 

The  road  lav  across  a  level  count rv  and  we 
saw  nothing  of  Chudleigh.  Nevertheless  we 
did  not  spare  our  weary  horses.  We  were  sure 
he  was  not  very  far  ahead,  and  it  was  no  time 
for  mercy  to  horseflesh.     Yet  I  thought  of  the 


2o6  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

poor  brutes.     I  said  to  Whitestone  I  trusted 
they  would  last. 

"  As  long  as  his,  perhaps,"  replied  White- 
stone. 

But  the  truth  soon  became  evident  that  he 
was  wrong  in  part.  We  heard  a  great  groan, 
louder  than  a  man  can  make,  and  Adams's  horse 
went  down  in  a  cloud  of  dust.  I  pulled  up  just 
enough  to  see  that  Adams  was  not  hurt,  and 
to  shout  to  him: 

"  Follow  us  as  best  you  can!  " 

Then  on  we  went.  Far  ahead  of  us  in  the 
road  we  saw  a  black  speck.  Whether  man. 
beast,  or  a  stump,  I  could  not  say,  but  we  hoped 
it  was  Chudleigh. 

"  See,  it  moves!  "  cried  Whitestone. 

Then  it  was  not  a  stump,  and  the  chance 
that  it  was  Chudleigh  increased.  Soon  it  be- 
came apparent  that  the  black  object  was  not 
only  moving,  but  moving  almost  as  fast  as  we. 
By  and  by  we  could  make  out  the  figure  of  a 
man  lashing  a  tired  horse.  That  it  was  Chud- 
leigh no  longer  admitted  of  doubt. 

"  We'll  catch  him  yet!  His  trick  shall  not 
avail  him!"  I  cried  exultingly  to  Whitestone. 

The  wise  sergeant  kept  silent  and  saved  his 


THE   TAKING  OF   CHUDLEIGH. 


207 


breath.  I  looked  back  once  and  saw  a  man 
running  after  us,  though  far  away.  I  knew  it 
was  Adams  following  us  on  foot,  faithful  to  his 
duty. 

I  felt  a  great  shudder  running  through  the 
horse  beneath  me,  and  then  the  faithful  animal 
began  to  reel  like  a  man  in  liquor.  I  could  have 
groaned  in  disappointment,  for  I  knew  these 
signs  betokened  exhaustion,  and  a  promise  that 
the  pursuit  would  be  left  to  Whitestone  alone. 
But  even  as  my  mind  formed  the  thought, 
Whitestone's  horse  fell  as  Adams's  had  fallen. 
My  own,  seeing  his  last  comrade  go  down, 
stopped  stock  still,  and  refused  to  stir  another 
inch  under  the  sharpest  goad. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  I  cried  to  White- 
stone. 

"  Follow  on  foot!  "  he  replied.  "  His  horse 
must  be  almost  as  far  gone  as  ours!  " 

We  paused  only  to  snatch  our  pistols  from 
the  holsters,  and  then  on  foot  we  pierced  the 
trail  of  dust  Chudlei2:h's  horse  had  left  behind 
him.  The  fine  dust  crept  into  eyes,  nose,  mouth, 
and  ears.  I  coughed  and  spluttered,  and  just 
as  I  was  rubbing  sight  back  into  my  eyes  I 
heard  a  joyful  cry  from  Whitestone.    I  was  able 


2o8  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

to  see  then  through  the  dust,  and  I  l)eheld 
Chudleigh  abandoning  his  horse  and  taking  to 
the  woods  on  foot. 

*'  It's  a  foot  race  now,  and  not  a  horse  race!  " 
1  said  to  \\'hitestone. 

"  Yes,  and  we  must  still  win!  "  he  replied. 

Poor  Adams  was  lost  to  sight  behind  us. 

About  two  hundred  yards  from  the  road 
the  woods  began.  I  feared  that  if  Chudleigh 
reached  these  he  might  elude  us,  and  I  pushed 
myself  as  I  had  pushed  my  horse.  Being  long- 
legged  and  country  bred,  1  am  a  fair  runner; 
in  fact,  it  is  a  nniscular  talent  upon  \\diich  I 
used  to  pride  myself.  The  sergeant  puffed 
much  at  my  elbow,  but  managed  to  keep  his 
place. 

I  now  perceived  with  much  joy  that  we 
could  outrun  Chudleigh.  When  he  dashed  into 
the  woods  we  had  made  a  very  smart  gain  upon 
him,  and  in  truth  were  too  near  for  him  to 
elude  us  by  doubling  or  turning  in  the  under- 
growth. Despite  the  ol)stacle  of  the  trees  and 
the  bushes  we  were  yet  able  to  keep  him  in 
view,  and,  better  acquainted  with  this  sort  of 
work  than  he,  we  gained  upon  him  even  more 
rapidly    than    before.      We   flattered   ourselves 


THE   TAKING   OF   CHUDLEIGH. 


ICKJ 


that  we  would  soon  have  him.  Though  it  was 
a  heavy  draught  upon  my  breath,  I  shouted 
with  all  my  might  to  Chudleigh  to  stop  and 
yield.  For  answer  he  whirled  around  and  fired 
a  pistol  at  us.  The  sergeant  grunted,  and 
stopped. 

"  Go  on  and  take  him  yourself!  "  he  said 
hastily  to  me.  *'  His  bullet's  in  my  leg!  Xo 
bones  broke,  but  I  can't  run  any  more!  Adams 
will  take  care  of  me!  " 

Obedient  to  his  connnand  and  my  own  im- 
pulse I  continued  the  chase.  Perhaps  if  I  had 
been  cooler  in  mind  1  might  not  have  done  so, 
for  Chudleigh  had  proved  himself  a  man;  he 
probably  had  another  pistol,  and  another  bullet 
in  that  other  pistol;  in  case  that  other  bullet 
and  I  met,  I  knew  which  would  have  to  yield, 
but  I  consoled  myself  with  the  refiection  that  I 
too  had  a  pistol  and  some  ac(|uaintance  with  its 
use. 

Chudleigh  did  not  look  back  again,  and  per- 
haps did  not  know  that  he  was  now  pursued  by 
only  one  man.  He  continued  his  flight  as  zeal- 
ously as  ever.  As  I  may  have  observed  before, 
and  with  truth  too,  it  incites  one's  courage  won- 
derfully to  have  a  man  run  from  him,  and  see- 


2IO  THE   SUN    OF   SARATOGA. 

ing  Chudleigirs  back  I  began  to  feel  quite  com- 
petent to  take  him  alone.  We  wound  about 
among  the  trees  at  a  great  rate.  I  was  gaining, 
though  I  was  forced  to  pump  my  breath  up 
from  great  depths.  But  I  was  consoled  by  the 
rellection  that,  however  tired  I  might  be,  surely 
he  fared  no  better.  I  shouted  to  him  again  and 
again,  to  stop,  but  he  ran  as  if  he  were  born  deaf. 

Presently  I  noticed  that  he  was  curving  back 
toward  the  road,  and  I  wondered  at  his  purpose. 
A  moment  later  he  burst  from  the  trees  into 
the  open  ground.  I  was  within  fair  pistol  shot, 
and,  with  trees  and  bushes  no  longer  obstruct- 
ing, he  was  a  good  target.  I  doubted  not  that 
I  could  hit  him,  and  since  he  would  not  stop 
for  my  voice,  I  must  see  if  a  bullet  would  make 
him  more  obedient. 

I  raised  my  pistol  and  took  the  good  aim 
which  one  can  do  running  if  he  has  had  the 
practice.  But  my  heart  revolted  at  the  shot. 
If  I  could  risk  so  much  for  Kate  Van  Auken's 
brother,  surely  I  could  risk  something  for  Kate 
Van  Auken's  lover.  I  do  not  take  praise  to  my- 
self for  not  shooting  Chudleigh,  as  I  was  think- 
ing that  if  I  did  fire  the  shot  I  would  have  but 
a  poor  tale  to  tell  to  Mistress  Catherine. 


THE   TAKING   OF   CHUDLEIGH.  211 

I  let  down  the  hammer  of  the  pistol  and 
stuffed  the  weapon  into  my  pocket.  Chudleigh 
was  now  running  straight  toward  the  road.  My 
wonder  what  his  purpose  might  be  increased. 

Of  a  sudden  he  drew  a  second  pistol  and 
fired  it  at  me,  but  his  bullet  sped  wide  of  the 
mark.  He  threw  the  pistol  on  the  ground  and 
tried  to  run  faster. 

I  thought  that  when  he  reached  the  road  lie 
would  follow  it  to  the  south,  hoping  to  shake 
me  off;  but,  very  much  to  my  surprise,  he 
crossed  it,  and  kept  a  straight  course  toward 
the  river.  Then  I  divined  that  he  being  a  good 
swimmer,  hoped  I  was  not,  and  that  thus  he 
might  escape  me.  But  I  can  swim  as  well  as  run, 
and  I  prepared  my  mind  for  the  event.  When  he 
reached  the  river  he  threw  off  his  coat  with  a 
(juick  movement  and  sprang  boldly  into  the 
stream.  But  I  was  ready.  I  threw  my  own 
coat  aside — the  only  one  I  had — and  leaped 
into  the  water  after  him. 

If  I  was  a  good  swimmer,  so  was  Chudleigh. 
When  I  rose  from  my  first  splash  he  was  al- 
ready far  from  me,  floating  partly  with  the 
stream,  and  following  a  diagonal  course  toward 
the  farther  shore.    I  sw^am  after  him  with  vigor- 


212  THE    SLX    OF   SARATOGA. 

ous  Strokes.  Ciirioiisly  enoii<^h,  the  severe  exer- 
tion to  which  1  liad  1)een  subjecting  myself  on 
land  did  not  seem  to  allect  me  in  the  water.  I 
suppose  a  new  set  of  muscles  came  into  play, 
for  I  felt  fresh  and  strong.  Moreover,  I  re- 
solved that  I  would  clin<^  to  Chudleiq-h  to  the 
very  last;  that  I  would  not  let  him  by  any 
chance  escape  me.  I  felt  again  that  the  entire 
fate  of  the  great  campaign  depended  upon  me, 
and  me  alone.  With  such  a  feeling,  one's  sense 
of  importance  grows  nuich,  and  1  think  it  made 
my  arm  stronger  also,  which  was  what  I  needed 
more  particularly  just  then. 

Chudleigh  dived  once  and  remained  under 
water  a  long  time,  with  the  probable  intent  of 
deceiving  me  in  regard  to  his  course.  But  the 
trick  worked  aqainst  him  rather  than  for  him; 
when  he  came  up  he  was  nearer  to  me  than 
before.  I  thought  also  that  his  strokes  were 
growing  weaker,  and  I  was  confirmed  in  such 
belief  by  the  amount  of  water  he  splashed  about, 
as  if  his  efforts  were  desperate  rather  than  judi- 
cious. 

I  swam,  my  strokes  long  and  steady,  and 
gained  upon  him  with  much  rapidity.  Wq  were 
approaching  the  shore,  when  he,  looking  back, 


THE    TAKING.  01-    ClIUDLEIGII.  21; 

perceived  that  1  must  overtake  him  before  he 
could  reach  land. 

With  an  abruptness  for  which  1  was  unpre- 
pared, he  swam  about  and  faced  me  as  much 
as  to  say:  *'  Come  on;  if  you  take  me,  you  must 
tight  me  tirst." 

Chudleigh,  with  only  his  head  above  water, 
was  not  especially  1)eautiful  to  look  at.  The  dirt 
with  which  he  had  disguised  himself  when  he 
played  false  guide  to  us  was  washed  off  partly, 
and  remained  partly  in  streaks  of  mud,  which 
made  him  look  as  if  a  hot  gridiron  had  been 
slapped  of  a  sudden  upon  his  face.  Moreover, 
Chudleigh  was  angry,  very  angry;  his  eyes 
snapped  as  if  he  were  wondering  why  I  could 
not  let  him  alone. 

I  may  have  looked  as  ugly  as  Chudleigh, 
but  I  could  not  see  for  myself.  1  swam  a  little 
closer  to  him,  looking  him  straight  in  the  eye, 
in  order  that  I  might  see  what  he  intended  to 
do  the  moment  he  thought  it. 

"  Why  do  you  follow  me?  "  he  asked,  with 
much  anger  in  his  tone. 

*'  Why  do  you  run  from  me?  "  I  asked. 

'*  \\'hat  I  do  is  no  business  of  yours."  he 
said. 


214 


THE   SUN  OF   SARATOGA. 


''  Oh,  yes,  it  is,"  I  replied.  **  You're  Captain 
Chudleigh  of  the  British  army,  an  escaped  pris- 
soner,  and  I've  come  to  recapture  you." 

'*  I  don't  see  how  you're  going  to  do  it," 
he  said. 

''  I  do,"  I  repHed,  though,  to  tell  the  truth, 
I  had  not  yet  thought  of  a  way  to  manage  the 
matter,  which  seemed  to  present  difficulties.  In 
the  meantime  I  confined  myself  to  treading 
water.     Chudleigh  did  the  same. 

"  That  was  a  dirty  trick  you  played  on  us 
back  there,"  I  said,  "  palming  yourself  off  on  us 
as  a  guide." 

'*  I  didn't  do  it,"  he  replied  in  an  injured 
tone.  "  Y'arre  to  blame  yourself.  You  forced 
me  at  the  pistol's  muzzle." 

He  told  the  truth,  I  was  forced  to  confess. 

''  We'll  let  that  pass,"  I  said.  "  Now,  will 
you  surrender?  " 

*'  Never!  "  he  replied,  in  manner  most  de- 
termined. 

"  Then  you  will  force  me  to  a  violent  re- 
capture," I  said. 

*'  I  fail  to  see  how  you  are  going  to  do  it," 
he  said  with  much  grimness.  ''  If  you  seize  me 
here  in  the  water,  I  will  seize  you,  and  then  we 


THE   TAKING   OF  CIIUDLEIGTI.  215 

will  drown  together,  which  will  be  very  unpleas- 
ant for  both  of  us." 

There  was  much  truth  in  what  he  said.  A 
'blind  man  or  a  fool  could  see  it. 

"  Let  us  swim  to  land  and  tight  it  out  with 
our  fists,"  I  proposed,  remembering  how  I  had 
overcome  Albert,  and  confident  that  I  could 
dispose  of  Chudleigh  in  similar  fashion. 

''  Oh,  no,"  he  said  decidedly,  "  I  am  very 
comfortable  where  I  am." 

'*  Then  you  like  water  better  than  most  Brit- 
ish officers,"  I  said. 

"  It  has  its  uses,"  he  replied  contentedly. 

There  was  nothing  more  to  do  just  then  but 
to  tread  water  and  think. 

''  Come,  come,  captain,"  I  said  after  a  while, 
'*  be  reasonable.  I've  overtaken  you.  You 
can't  get  away.  Surrender  like  a  gentleman, 
.and  let's  go  ashore  and  dry  ourselves.  This 
water's  getting  cold." 

''  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  surrender," 
he  replied.  "  Besides,  the  water  is  no  colder 
for  you  than  it  is  for  me." 

There  was  no  iiuswer  to  this  logic.  ^lore- 
over,  wdiat  he  said  sounded  like  a  challenge. 
So  I  set  myself  to  thinking  with  more  concentra- 


2l6  THE    SUN    OF   SARATOGA. 

tion  than  ever.  'I'lierc  was  another  and  lon^'er 
interval  of  silence.  1  hoj)e(l  that  W'hilestone 
or  Adanis  would  appear,  hut  neither  did  s(j. 
After  all.  I  had  little  rit(ht  to  exj^ect  either.  We 
had  left  them  far  behind,  and  also  we  had 
changed  our  course.  There  was  nothing  to 
guide  them. 

T  addressed  mvself  once  more  to  Chudleiefirs 
reason. 

"  Your  errand  is  at  an  end,"  I  said. 
"  Whether  I  take  you  row  or  not,  you  can  not 
shake  me  off.  You  will  never  jjet  throui2:h  to 
Clinton.  Besides,  you  are  losing  all  your  pre- 
cious time  here  in  the  river." 

But  he  preserved  an  obstinacy  most  strange 
and  vexatious.  He  did  not  even  reply  to  me, 
but  kept  on  treading  water.  I  perceived  that  I 
must  use  with  him  some  other  means  than  logic, 
however  sound  and  unanswerable  the  latter 
might  be. 

Sometimes  it  happens  to  me,  as  doubtless 
it  does  to  other  people,  that  after  being  long 
in  a  puzzle,  the  answer  comes  to  me  so  sud- 
denly and  so  easily  that  I  wonder  wdiy  I  did  not 
see  it  first  glance. 

Without  any  preliminaries  that  would  seem 


THE    TAKING  OF   CHUDLEKIH.  217 

to  warn  Chu(lleii[^-li.  I  dived  out  of  sit;lit.  Wlion 
I  oaiiie  up  I  was  in  such  shallow  water  that  1 
could  wade.  Xear  me  was  a  liuij^e  bowlder  pv^^- 
trudini;"  a  <;oo(l  two  feet  above  the  water.  I 
walked  to  it,  climbed  upon  it,  and  taking  a  com- 
fortable position  above  the  water,  looked  at 
Chudleigh.  who  seemed  to  be  much  surprised 
and  au^rieved  at  mv  sudden  countermarch. 

'*  What  do  you  mean?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing,"  I  replied,  "  except  that  I  am 
tired  of  treading  water.  Come  and  join  me; 
it's  very  pleasant  up  here." 

He  declined  my  invitation,  which  I  had 
worded  most  courteously.  I  remained  silent 
for  a  while;   then  I  said: 

"  Better  come.  Vou  can't  tread  water  for- 
ever. If  you  stay  there  much  longer  you'll 
catch  the  cramp  and  drown." 

I  lolled  on  the  bowlder  and  awaited  the  end 
with  calmness  and  satisfaction.  My  signal  ad- 
vantage was  apparent. 

"  I'll  swim  to  the  other  sliore,"  said  he  pres- 
ently. 

"  You  can't,"  I  replied.  *'  It's  too  far;  you 
haven't  strength  enough  left  for  it." 

I  could  see  that  he  was  growing  tired.     He 


2i8  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

looked  around  liim  at  cither  shore  and  up  and 
down  the  ri\cr,  hut  we  were  the  only  human 
heings  within  the  circle  of  that  horizon. 

*'  What  terms  of  surrender  do  you  pro- 
pose? "  he  said  at  last,  with  a  certain  despair 
in  his  tone. 

"  Unconditional." 

'*  That  is  too  hard." 

"  My  advantage  warrants  the  demand." 

He  was  silent  again  for  a  few  moments,  and 
was  rapidly  growing  weaker.  I  thought  I 
would  hasten  matters. 

"  I  will  not  treat  you  badly,"  I.  said.  ''  All 
I  want  to  do  is  to  take  you  back  to  our  army." 

"  W^ell.  I  suppose  I  must  accept,"  he  said, 
"  for  I  am  growing  devilish  cold  and  tired." 

'*  Pledge  your  honor,"  I  said,  ''  that  you 
will  make  no  attempt  to  escape,  with  the  under- 
standing that  the  pledge  d'  es  not  forbid 
rescue." 

'*  I  give  you  my  word,"  he  said. 

Whereupon  he  swam  to  shore,  to  the  great 
relief  of  us  both. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    RETURN    WITH    CHUDLEIGH. 

We  climbed  up  the  bank,  and  sat  for  some 
time  drying  in  the  sun.  We  were  wet,  and, 
moreover,  had  drunk  lari^-e  (juantities  of  the 
Hudson  River.  As  a  regular  thing,  I  prefer  dry 
land  as  a  place  of  inhabitation. 

While  the  sun  dried  our  bodies  and  clothing 
I  was  thinking.  Though  I  had  taken  my  man, 
and  that,  too,  single-handed,  my  position  was 
nut  the  best  in  the  world.  I  was  now  on  the 
wrong  side  of  the  river,  and  I  had  lost  my 
weapons  and  my  comrades.    Also  I  was  hungry. 

"  Chudleigh,"  I  asked,  "  are  you  hungry?  * 

"  Rather,"  he  replied  with  emphasis. 

"How  are  we  to  get  something  to  eat?" 
I  asked. 

"  That's  your  affair,  not  mine,"  he  replied. 

"  I  liave  nothing  to  do  but  to  remain  captured." 

I  thought  I  saw  in  him  an  inclination  to  be 
15  219 


220  THE    SUN    OF   SARATOGA. 

disagreeable,  which,  to  say  the  truth,  was  scarce 
the  part  of  a  gentleman  after  the  handsome 
fashion  in  which  I  had  treated  him.  In  the  face 
of  such  ingratitude,  I  resolved  to  use  the  privi- 
leges of  my  superior  position. 

"  Are  you  about  dry?  "  I  asked. 

••  \^^^  " 
1  es. 

"  Then  get  up  and  march." 

He  seemed  to  resent  my  stern  tone,  but  in- 
asmuch as  he  had  ])rovoked  it  he  had  no  cause 
for  complaint.  If  he  intended  to  assert  all  the 
rights  of  a  prisoner,  then  T  ecjually  would  assert 
all  the  rights  of  a  captor. 

*'  Which  way?  "  he  asked. 

"  Northward,  along  the  river  bank.  Keep 
in  front  of  me."  I  said. 

Obedient  to  my  orders  he  stalked  ofY  at  a 
pretty  gait,  and  I  followed.  We  marched  thii> 
for  half  a  mile.  Chudleigh  glanced  back  at  nie 
once  or  twice.  I  seemed  not  to  notice  it.  though 
I  could  guess  what  was  passing  in  his  mind. 

"  If  I  hadn't  given  my  word,"  he  said,  '"  I 
think  I'd  fight  it  out  with  you,  fist  and  skull." 

"  I  ofTered  you  the  chance,"  I  said,  "  when 
we  were  in  the  river,  but  you  would  not  accept 
it.    You've  heard  manv  wise  savings  about  Inst 


THE    RETURN    WITH    CllUDLEIGH. 


T  1  r 


opportunities,    and    this    proves    the    truth    of 
them." 

"  That's  so."  he  said  with  a  sigh  of  deep  re- 


gret. 

"  Besides,"  I  added,  in  the  way  of  consola- 
tion for  his  lost  opportunity,  "  you  would  gain 
iiothinp^  bv  it  hut  bruises.  1  am  larger  and 
stronger  than  you." 

He  measured  me  with  his  eve  and  concluded 
that  1  spoke  truth,  for  he  heaved  another  sigh, 
hut  of  comfort. 

'*  Now,  Chudleigh,"  1  said,  "  a  man  can  be 
a  fool  sometimes  and  lose  nothing,  but  he  can't 
be  a  fool  all  the  time  and  gather  the  profits  of 
the  earth.  Drop  back  here  with  me  and  let  us 
talk  and  act  sensibly." 

He  wrinkled  his  brow  a  moment  or  two,  as 
if  in  thought,  and  accepted  my  invitation. 
Whereupon  we  became  very  good  compan- 
ions. 

In  reality  I  felt  as  much  trouble  about  Chud- 
leigh as  myself.  It  was  like  the  trouble  I  had 
felt  on  Albert's  account.  He  had  penetrated 
our  lines  in  citizen's  clothes,  and  if  I  took  him 
l)ack  to  our  camp  in  the  same  attire  he  might 
be  regarded  as  a  spy,  with  all  the  unpleasant 


222  THE   SUN   OF    SARATOGA. 

consequences  such  a  thing  entails.  Having 
spared  Chudlcigh's  Hfe  once  from  scruples,  I 
had  no  mind  to  lead  him  to  the  gallows.  I 
must  get  a  British  uniform  for  him,  though 
how  was  more  than  I  could  tell.  The  problem 
troubled  me  much. 

But  the  advance  of  hunger  soon  drove 
thoughts  of  Chudleigh's  safety  out  of  my  mind, 
and,  stubborn  Englishman  though  he  was,  he 
was  fain  to  confess  that  he  too  felt  the  desire 
for  food.  Along  that  side  of  the  river  the  set- 
tlements were  but  scant,  and  nowhere  did  we 
see  a  house. 

That  we  would  encounter  Whitestone  and 
Adams  was  beyond  all  probability,  for  they 
would  never  surmise  that  we  had  crossed  the 
river.  Chudleigh  and  I  looked  ruefully  and 
hungrily  at  each  other. 

"  Chudleigh,"  I  said,  ''  you  are  more  trouble 
a  captive  than  a  fugitive." 

**  The  responsibility  is  yours,"  he  said.  "  I 
decline  to  carry  the  burdens  of  my  captor.  Find 
me  something  to  eat." 

We  trudged  along  for  more  than  an  hour, 
somewhat  gloomy  and  the  pains  of  hunger  in- 
creasing.     I  was  about  to  call  a  halt,  that  we 


THE   RETURN   WITH   CHUDLEiGH. 


223 


might  rest  and  that  I  might  think  about  our 
(lifficuUies,  when  I  saw  a  cohmni  of  smoke  ris- 
ing above  a  hill.  I  called  Chudleigh's  atten- 
tion to  it,  and  he  agreed  with  me  that  we  ought 
to  push  on  and  see  what  it  was. 

I  was  convinced  that  friends  must  be  at  the 
bottom  of  that  column  of  smoke.  If  any  British 
party  had  come  so  far  north,  which  in  itself  was 
improbable,  it  could  scarce  be  so  careless  as 
to  give  to  the  Americans  plain  warning  of  its 
presence. 

It  was  a  long  walk,  but  we  were  cheered  by 
the  possibility  that  our  reward  would  be  dinner. 
Chudleigh  seemed  to  cherish  some  lingering 
hope  that  it  was  a  party  of  British  or  Tories 
who  would  rescue  him,  but  I  told  him  to  save 
himself  such  disappointments. 

In  a  short  time  we  came  in  view  of  those 
who  had  built  the  fire,  and  I  was  delighted  to 
find  my  surmise  that  they  were  x\mericans  was 
correct. 

They  numbered  some  fifty  or  a  hundred, 
and  I  guessed  they  were  a  detachment  on  the 
way  to  join  the  northern  army  beleaguering 
Burgoyne. 

"  Chudleigh,"  I  said  as  we  approached  the 


224  '^^^^  ^^^'^   ^^   SARATOGA. 

first  sentinel,  "  will  you  promise  to  do  all  that 
1  say?  " 

**  Of  course:  1  am  your  prisoner,"  he  re- 
plied. 

I  hailed  the  sentinel  and  my  uniform  pro- 
cured for  me  a  friendlv  reception.  Chudleieh 
T  introduced  vaguely  as  a  countryman  travel- 
ing northward  with  me.  The  men  were  eat- 
ing, and  I  told  them  we  were  making  close 
acquaintance  with  starvation.  They  invited  us 
to  join  tliem,  and  we  fell  to  with  great  prompti- 
tude. 

I  could  tell  them  something  about  affairs  at 
the  north,  and  they  could  give  me  the  latest 
news  from  the  south.  They  told  me  that  Clin- 
ton was  still  below  Albanv,  hesitating  and 
awaiting  with  impatience  some  message  from 
Burgoyne. 

I  rejoiced  more  than  ever  that  I  had  stopped 
Chudleigh.  and  felt  pride  in  my  exploit.  I  hope 
I  can  be  pardoned  for  it.  It  was  but  natural 
that  Chudleigh's  emotions  should  be  the  op- 
posite of  mine,  and  I  watched  his  face  to  see 
how  he  would  take  this  talk.  It  was  easy 
enough  to  see  regret  expressed  there,  though 
he  sought  to  control  himself. 


The  return  \\  m  chudlekhi. 


22? 


The  talk  of  these  recruits  was  very  bitter 
airainst  the  British.  The  Iiuhans  with  Bur- 
q(nne  had  committed  many  cruel  deeds  before 
I  hey  tied  back  to  Canada,  and  these  country- 
men were  full  of  the  |)assion  for  revenge,  1 
often  think  that  if  the  liritish  in  London  knew 
what  atrocities  their  red  allies  have  committed 
in  their  wars  with  us  they  would  understand 
more  easily  why  so  many  of  us  are  inflamed 
ai^ainst  the  Englishman. 

These  men  were  rehearsing  the  latest  mur- 
ders by  the  Indians,  and  they  showed  very  plain- 
ly their  desire  to  arri\e  at  the  front  before  Bur- 
iioyne  was  taken.  Xor  did  they  s])are  the  name 
of  Englishman.  J  was  sorry  on  Chudleigh's  ac- 
ccnmt  that  the  talk  had  taken  such  drift.  He 
took  note  of  it  from  the  first,  because  his  red 
face  grew  redder,  and  he  squirmed  about  in  the 
manner  which  shows  uneasiness, 

*'  Chudleigh,"  I  whis])ered  at  a  moment 
when  the  others  were  not  loc)king,  "  keep 
still.     Remember  ycnt  are  my  prisoner." 

But  he  sat  there  swelling  and  puffing  like 
nn  angry  cat. 

Wdiile  the  others  were  denouncing  them,  T 
made  some  excuses,  most  perfunctory,  it  is  true, 


226  THE    SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

for  the  British;  1)Ut  this  was  only  an  additional 
incitement  to  a  bellicose  man  named  Hicks. 
He  damned  the  British  for  every  crime  known 
to  Satan.  Chudleigh  was  so  red  in  the  face  I 
thought  the  ])lood  would  pop  out  through  his 
cheeks,  and,  thoucfh  I  shoved  him  warnin^^lv 
with  my  boot,  he  blurted  out  his  wrath. 

"  The  English  are  as  good  as  anybody,  sir, 
and  you  accuse  them  falsely!  "  he  said. 

*'  What  is  it  to  you?  ''  exclaimed  Hicks,  turn- 
ing to  him  in  surprise  and  anger. 

"  I  am  an  Englishman,  sir,"  said  Chudleigh 
with  ill-judged  haughtiness,  "  and  I  will  not  en- 
dure such  abuse.'' 

"  Oh,  you  are  an  Englishman,  are  you,  and 
vou  won't  endure  abuse,  won't  vou? "  said 
Hicks  with  irony;  and  then  to  me,  "  We  did  not 
understand  you  to  say  he  was  an  Englishman." 

I  saw  that  we  were  in  a  pickle,  and  I  thought 
it  best  to  tell  the  whole  truth  in  a  careless  way. 
as  if  the  thing  were  but  a  trille. 

"  The  man  is  an  English  officer,  an  escaped 
prisoner,  whom  I  have  retaken,"  I  said.  "  I 
did  not  deem  it  worth  while  to  make  long  ex- 
planations, especially  as  we  must  now^  push  on 
after  you  have  so  kindly  fed  us." 


THE   RETURN   WITH   CHUDLEIGH. 


227 


But  11  icks  was  suspicious;  so  were  the 
others,  and  tlieir  sus{)icions  were  fed  by  the 
mutterings  and  growls  of  Chudleigh,  who 
showed  a  lack  of  tact  remarkable  even  in  an 
Englishman  out  of  his  own  country.  Then,  to 
appease  them.  I  went  into  some  of  the  long  ex- 
planations which  I  had  said  I  wanted  to  avoid. 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  broke  in  Hicks,  **  but 
if  this  man  is  an  English  officer,  why  is  he  not 
in  the  English  uniform?  I  believe  he  is  an 
Ensflishman,  as  vou  sav;  he  talks  like  it,  but 
tell  me  why  he  is  dressed  like  a  civilian." 

The  others  followed  Hicks's  lead  and  began 
to  cry: 

"Spy!    Spy!    Spy!" 

In  truth  I  felt  alarm. 

"  This  is  no  spy,"  I  said.  "  He  is  Captain 
Cliudleigh,  of  the  English  army." 

"  He  may  be  Captain  Chudleigh  and  a  spy 
too,"  said  Hicks  coolly.  *'  I  am  not  sure  about 
the  Chudleigh  part,  but  I  am  about  the  spy 
part." 

"  Hang  him  for  good  count!  "  cried  some  of 
the  others,  wdio  seemed  to  be  raw  recruits.  The 
talk  about  the  Indian  atrocities  was  fresh  in 
their  minds,  and  they  w-ere  in  a  highly  inflam- 


22$  THE   SUN   OF   SAkATOGA. 

matory  state.  I  recognized  a  real  and  present 
danger. 

'*  Men."  1  cried.  "  you  are  going  too  far! 
This  prisoner  is  mine,  and  it  is  of  importance 
that  I  take  him  back  to  the  army." 

But  my  protest  only  seemed  to  excite  them 
further.  In  truth  they  took  it  as  a  threat. 
Some  of  them  began  to  demand  that  I  too 
should  be  hung,  that  I  was  a  Tory  in  disguise. 
But  the  body  of  them  did  not  take  up  this 
cry.  The  bulk  of  their  wrath  fell  upon  Chud- 
leigh,  who  was  undeniably  an  Englishman.  Two 
or  three  of  the  foremost  made  ready  to  seize 
him.  I  was  in  no  mind  to  have  all  my  plans 
spoiled,  and  I  snatched  a  musket  from  a  stack 
and  threatened  to  shoot  the  first  man  who  put 
a  hand  on  Chudleigh. 

Chudleigh  himself  behaved  very  well,  and 
sat,  quite  calm.  The  men  hesitated  at  sight  of 
the  rille.  and  this  gave  me  a  cliance  to  appeal 
to  their  reason,  which  was  more  accessible  now 
since  they  seemed  to  be  impressed  by  my  ear- 
nestness. I  insisted  that  all  I  had  said  was  the 
truth,  and  they  would  be  doing  much  injury 
to  our  cause  if  they  interfered  with  us.  I  fanc\ 
that  I  pleaded  our  case  with  eloquence,  though 


THK    RETURN    WITH    CHUDLEIGH.  229 

I  ought  not  to  boast.  At  any  rate  they  were 
mollified,  and  concluded  to  abandon  their  proj- 
ect of  hanging  Chudleigh. 

"  I've  no  doubt  he  deserves  hanging.*"  said 
liicks,  '*  but  I  guess  we'll  leave  the  job  for  some- 
body else." 

Chudleigh  was  about  to  resent  this,  but  I 
told  him  to  shut  up  so  abruptly  that  he  forgot 
himself  and  obeyed. 

I  was  anxious  enough  to  be  clear  of  these 
men.  countrymen  though  they  were;  so  we  bade 
them  adieu  and  tramped  on.  much  strengthened 
by  the  rest  and  food. 

"  Captain."  said  I  to  Chudleigh.  though  try- 
ing to  preserve  a  polite  tone,  '*  you  do  not  seem 
to  appreciate  the  beauty  and  virtue  of  silence." 

"  I  will  not  have  my  country  or  my  country- 
men insulted,"  replied  he  in  most  belligerent 
tones. 

*'  Well,  at  any  rate."  1  said.  "  I  had  to  save 
your  life  at  the  risk  of  my  own." 

**  It  was  nothing  more  than  your  duty,"  he 
replied.  "  I  am  your  prisoner,  and  you  are  re- 
sponsible for  my  safety." 

Which  I  call  rank  ingratitude  on  Chudleigh's 
part,  though  technically  true. 


230 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


It  was  late  in  the  day  when  we  met  the  de- 
tachment, and  dark  now  being  near  at  hand, 
it  was  apparent  that  we  would  have  to  sleep 
in  the  woods,  which,  however,  was  no  hard- 
ship for  soldiers,  since  the  nights  were  warm 
and  the  ground  dry.  When  the  night  arrived 
I  proposed  to  Chudleigh  that  we  stop  and  make 
our  beds  on  the  turf,  which  was  rather  thick  and 
soft  at  that  spot.  He  assented  in  the  manner 
of  one  who  had  made  up  his  mind  to  obey  me 
in  every  particular. 

But  before  lying  down  I  had  the  fore- 
thought to  ask  from  Chudleigh  a  guarantee 
that  he  would  not  walk  away  in  the  night  while 
I  was  asleep.  I  reminded  him  of  his  pledge 
that  he  would  not  attempt  to  escape,  barring 
a  rescue. 

But  he  took  exceptions  with  great  prompt- 
ness, claiming  with  much  plausibility,  I  was  fain 
to  admit,  that  his  pledge  did  not  apply  in  such 
a  case.  He  argued  that  if  I  lay  down  and  went 
to  sleep  he  was  no  longer  guarded;  conse- 
quently he  was  not  a  prisoner;  consequently  he 
would  go  away.  Since  he  chose  to  stick  to  his 
position,  I  had  no  way  to  drive  him  from  it, 
whether  reasonable  or  unreasonable. 


THE    RETURN   WITH   CHUDLEIGII.  2;  I 

"  Then  I  will  bind  vou  hand  and  foot,"  I 
said. 

lie  reminded  me  with  an  air  of  triumph  that 
I  had  nothing  with  which  to  bind  him,  which 
unfortunately  was  true. 

*'  What  am  I  to  do?  "  I  said  as  much  to  my- 
self as  to  him. 

"  Nothing-  that  I  can  see,"  he  replied,  '*  but 
lo  guard  me  while  I  sleep." 

Without  another  word  he  lay  down  upon 
the  turf,  and  in  less  than  two  minutes  his  snore 
permeated  the  woods. 

Reflecting  in  most  unhappy  fashion  that  if 
it  were  not  for  the  great  interests  of  our  cam- 
paign I  would  much  rather  be  his  prisoner  than 
have  him  mine,  I  sat  there  making  fierce  efforts 
to  keep  my  eyelids  apart. 


CHAPTER   XVI I. 


MV     THANKS, 


About  midnight  1  reached  the  Hniit  of  en- 
durance. I  was  firm  in  my  resokition  that  I 
would  not  sleep,  and  while  still  firm  in  it  T  slept. 
\\lien  I  awoke  it  was  a  fine  day.  For  a  moment 
1  was  in  a  cold  terror,  feeling  sure  Chudleigh 
had  slipped  away  while  I  slept  the  sleep  that 
had  overpowered  me.  But  a  calm,  evenly  at- 
tuned snore  that  glided  peacefully  through  the 
arches  of  the  woods  reassured  me. 

Chudleigh  was  lying  on  his  back,  sleeping. 
He  was  as  heavv  as  a  loe.  and  I  knew  that  he 


'?-.' 


had  not  known  a  single  waking  moment  since 
he  lay  down  the  night  before.  I  dragged  him 
about  with  rudeness  and  he  opened  his  eyes  re- 
gretfully. Presently  he  announced  that  he 
felt  very  fresh  and  strong,  and  asked  me  wdierc 

I  expected  to  get  breakfast.     He  said  he  was 

232 


MV    THANKS. 


^11 


sorry  for  nie,  as  he  knew  T  must  be  very  tired 
and  sleepy  after  sitting  up  on  i^uard  all  night. 

1  ga\'e  him  no  answer,  but  commanded  him 
to  resume  the  march  with  me.  We  walked  on 
with  diligence  through  a  breakfastless  country. 
Chudleigh,  though  sulYering  from  hunger,  was 
frecjuent  in  his  expressions  of  sympathy  for  me. 
lie  said  he  had  the  utmost  pity  for  any  man 
who  was  compelled  to  sit  up  an  entire  night 
and  watch  prisoners;  but  I  replied  that  I  throve 
ui)on  it,  and  then  Chudleigh  showed  chagrin. 

Wt  had  the  good  fortune,  about  two  hours 
before  noon,  to  find  the  house  of  a  farmer,  who 
sold  us  some  food,  and  cared  not  whether  we 
were  American  or  British,  Tory  or  nothing,  so 
long  as  we  were  good  pay. 

A  half  hour  after  leaving  this  place  I  decided 
that  we  ought  to  recross  the  river.  Chudleigh 
offered  no  objection,  knowing  that  he  had  no 
right  to  do  so,  being  a  prisoner.  I  had  no 
mind  to  take  another  swim,  so  1  made  search 
along  the  bank  for  something  that  would  serve 
as  a  raft,  and  was  not  long  in  finding  it. 

Having  proved  to  Chudleigh  that  it  was  as 
much  to  his  benefit  as  to  mine  to  help  me,  we 
rolled   a   small   tree   that   had   fallen   near  the 


234 


THE   SUN   OF    SARATOGA. 


water's  edge  into  the  river,  and,  sitting  astride  it, 
began  our  ride  toward  the  farther  shore.  I 
had  a  pole  with  which  I  could  direct  the  course 
of  our  raft,  and  with  these  aids  it  seemed 
rather  an  easy  matter  to  cross.  I  allowed 
the  tree  to  drift  partly  with  the  current,  but 
all  the  time  gently  urged  it  toward  the  farther 
shore. 

Wc  floated  along  quite  peacefully.  So  far 
as  we  could  see  we  were  alone  upon  the  broad 
surface  of  the  river,  and  the  shores  too  were 
deserted.  I  remarked  upon  the  loneliness  of  it 
all  to  Chudleigh,  and  he  seemed  impressed. 

''  Chudleigh,"  I  said.  '*  we're  having  an  easier 
time  recrossino:  the  river  than  we   had  cross- 


ing  it." 


''  So  it  would  seem,"  he  replied,  "  but  we 
won't  unless  you  look  out  for  the  current  and 
those  rocks  there." 

I  had  twisted  my  face  about  while  speaking 
to  Chudleigh,  and  in  consequence  neglected  the 
outlook  ahead.  Wq  had  reached  a  shallow 
place  in  the  river  where  some  sharp  rocks  ctuck 
up,  and  the  water  eddied  about  them  in  manner 
most  spirited.  The  front  end  of  our  log  was 
caught  in  one  of  these  eddies  and  whirled  about 


MY   THANKS. 


235 


with  violence.  I  was  thrown  off,  and  though  I 
grasped  at  the  log  it  slipped  away  from  me. 
I  whirled  about  to  recover  myself,  but  the  fierce 
current  picked  me  up  and  dashed  me  against 
one  of  the  projecting  rocks.  With  a  backward 
twist  I  was  able  to  save  myself  a  little,  but  my 
head  struck  the  cruel  stone  with  grievous 
force. 

I  saw  many  stars  appear  suddenly  in  the  full 
dav.  Chudleii^h  and  the  lotr  \'anished,  and  I 
was  drifting  away  through  the  atmosphere.  I 
was  not  wholly  unconscious,  and  through  the 
instinct  of  an  old  swimmer  made  some  motions 
which  kept  me  afloat  a  little  while  with  the 
current. 

I  had  too  little  mind  left  to  command  my 
nerves  and  muscles,  but  enough  to  know  that  I 
was  very  near  death.  In  a  dazed  and  bewildered 
sort  of  way  I  expected  the  end,  and  was  loath 
to  meet  it. 

The  blue  sky  was  rapidly  fading  into  noth- 
ing, when  some  voice  from  a  point  a  thousand 
miles  away  called  to  me  to  hold  up  a  little 
longer.  The  voice  was  so  sharp  and  imperious 
that  it  acted  like  a  tonic  upon  me,  and  brain 

resumed  a  little  control  over  body.     I  tried  to 
16 


236  THK    SUX    OF    SARATOGA. 

swim,  but  I  was  too  weak  to  do  more  than 
paddle  a  little.  The  voice  shouted  again,  and 
encouraged  me  to  persevere. 

In  truth  1  tried  to  persevere,  but  things 
were  whizzing  about  so  much  in  my  head  and 
I  was  so  weak  that  I  could  do  but  little.  I 
thought  I  was  boimd  to  go  down,  with  the 
whole  river  pouring  into  my  ears. 

"  That's  a  good  fellow!  "  shouted  the  voice. 
"  Hold  up  just  a  minute  longer,  and  I'll  have 
you  safe! '' 

I  saw  dimly  a  huge  figure  bearing  down 
upon  me.  It  reached  out  and  grasped  me  by 
the  collar. 

"Steady,  now!"  continued  the  voice. 
''  Here  comes  our  tree,  and  we'll  be  safe  in 
twenty  seconds!  " 

The  tree,  looking  like  a  mountain,  floated 
down  toward  us.  My  rescuer  reached  out. 
seized  it,  and  then  dragged  us  both  upon  it. 
Reposing  in  safety,  mind  and  strength  re- 
turned, and  things  resumed  their  natural  size 
and  shape.  Chudleigh.  the  Hudson  River  run- 
nine  in  little  cascades  from  his  hair  down  his 
face,  was  sitting  firmly  astride  the  log  and  look- 
ing at  me  with  an  air  of  satisfaction. 


MY    THANKS.  2^- 

''  Chiulleig-h,"  I  said,  "  I  believe  you  have 
saved  my  life." 

"  Shelby,"  he  replied.  "  I  know  it." 

"  Why  didn't  you  escape?  "  I  asked. 

"  You  compel  me  to  remind  you  that  I  am 
a  gentleman,  Mr.  Shelby,"  he  said. 

That  was  all  that  ever  passed  between  us 
on  the  subject,  though  I  reflected  that  I  was 
not  in  his  debt,  for  if  he  had  saved  my  life  I  had 
saved  his. 

W'e  had  no  further  difficultv  in  reachins:  the 
desired  shore,  where  the  sun  soon  dried  us.  We 
continued  our  journey  in  very  amicable  fashion, 
Chudleigh  no  doubt  feeling  relief  because  he 
was  now  in  a  measure  on  even  terms  with  me. 
1,  too,  was  in  a  state  of  satisfaction.  Unless 
Buroovne  had  retreated  verv  fast,  we  could  not 
now  be  far  from  the  lines  of  the  American  army, 
and  I  thought  that  my  troubles  with  my  pris- 
oner were  almost  at  an  end.  T  hoped  that  Bur- 
goyne  had  not  been  taken  in  my  absence,  for 
I  wished  to  be  present  at  the  taking.  I  also 
had  in  my  mind  another  plan  with  which  Chud- 
leigh was  concerned.  It  was  a  plan  of  great 
self-sacrifice,  and  I  felt  the  virtuous  glow 
which  arises  from  such  resolutions. 


238  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

W'e  paused  again,  by  and  by,  for  rest,  the 
sun  having  become  warm  and  the  way  disty. 
Chudlcigh  sat  down  on  a  stone  and  wiped  his 
damp  face,  while  I  went  to  a  brook,  which  I  had 
seen  glimmering  among  the  trees,  for  a  drink 
of  fresh  water.  I  had  just  kneU  down  to  drink 
wlien  I  heard  a  clattering  of  hoofs.  Rising 
hastily,  I  saw  two  men  riding  toward  Chudleigh. 
Though  the  faces  of  these  two  men  were  much 
smeared  with  dust,  I  recognized  them  readily 
and  joyfully.  They  were  W'hitestone  and 
Adams. 

^ly  two  comrades  evidently  had  seen  and 
recognized  Chudleigh.  They  raised  a  shout  and 
galloped  toward  him  as  if  they  feared  he  would 
flee.  1  came  down  to  the  edge  of  the  wood 
and  stopped  there  to  see  at  my  leisure  what 
might  happen. 

Chudleigh  sat  upon  the  stone  unmoved. 
As  a  matter  of  course  he  both  saw  and  heard 
Wliitestone  and  Adams,  but  he  was  a  phleg- 
matic sort  of  fellow  and  took  no  notice.  White- 
stone  reached  him  first.  Leaping  from  his  horse, 
the  gallant  sergeant  exclaimed: 

"  Do  you  surrender,  captain?  '' 

'*  Certainly,"  said  Chudleigh. 


MV   THANKS. 


239 


*'  It's  been  a  long  chase,  captain,  but  we've 
got  you  at  last,"  continued  the  sergeant. 

*'  So  it  seems,"  said  Chudleigh,  with  the 
same  phlegm. 

Then  I  came  from  the  wood  and  cut  the  ser- 
geant's comb  for  him:  but  he  was  so  glad  to 
see  me  again  that  he  was  quite  willing  to  lose 
the  glory  of  the  recapture.  He  explained  that 
he  had  been  overtaken  by  Adams.  Together 
they  had  wandered  around  in  search  of  Chud- 
leigh and  me.  Giving  up  the  hunt  as  useless, 
they  had  obtained  new  horses  and  were  on  the 
way  back  to  the  armv. 

We  were  now  four  men  and  two  horses,  and 
the  men  taking  turns  on  horseback,  we  increased 
our  speed  greatly. 

\Miitestone  and  Adams  were  in  fine  feather, 
1)ut  there  was  one  question  that  yet  bothered 
me.  I  wanted  to  take  Chudleigh  back  in  his 
own  proper  British  uniform,  and  thus  save  him 
from  unpleasant  ])ossibilities.  1  did  not  see  how 
it  could  be  done,  but  luck  helped  me. 

We  met  very  soon  a  small  party  of  Ameri- 
cans escorting  some  British  prisoners.  Telling 
my  companions  to  wait  for  me,  I  approached 
the  sergeant  who  was  in  charge  of  the  troop. 


240 


THE    SUN    OF   SARATOGA. 


Making  my  manner  as  imjiortant  as  I  could, 
and  speaking  in  a  low  tone,  as  if  fearful  that  1 
would  be  overheard — which  I  observe  always 
impresses  people — I  told  him  that  one  of  our 
number  was  about  to  undertake  a  most  deli- 
cate and  dangerous  mission.  It  chanced  that 
I  had  some  slight  ac(|uaintance  with  this  ser- 
geant, and  therefore  he  had  no  reason  to  doubt 
mv  words,  even  if  I  am  forced  to  sav  it  mvself. 

He  pricked  up  his  ears  at  once,  all  curiosit}'. 
and  wanted  to  know  the  nature  of  the  business. 
I  pointed  to  Chudleigh,  who  was  standing  some 
distance  away  with  \Miitestone  and  Adams,  and 
said  he  was  going  to  enter  the  British  lines  as 
a  spy  in  order  to  procure  most  important  in- 
formation. 

"  A  dano^erous  business,  vou  sav  trulv.  He 
must  be  a  darmg  fellow,''  said  my  man,  nod- 
ding his  head  in  the  direction  of  Chudleigh. 

'*  So  he  is,"  I  said,  "  ready  at  any  moment 
to  risk  his  life  for  the  cause,  but  we  need  one 
thing." 

He  asked  what  it  was. 

*'  A  disguise,"  I  said.  "  If  he  is  to  play  the 
British  soldier,  of  course  he  must  have  a  British 
soldier's  clothes." 


MV   THANKS. 


241 


1  made  no  request,  but  i  looked  suggestive- 
ly at  the  British  prisoners.  The  sergeant,  who 
was  all  for  obliging  nie,  took  the  hint  at  once, 
lie  picked  out  the  very  best  uniform  in  the  lot, 
and  made  the  man  who  wore  it  exchange  it  for 
Chudleigh's  old  clothes.  Chudleigh,  who  had 
been  learning  wisdom  in  the  last  day  or  two. 
was  considerate  enough  to  keep  his  mouth  shut, 
and  we  parted  from  the  sergeant  and  his  troop 
with  many  mutual  expressions  of  good  will. 
The  uniform  did  not  tit  Chudleigh,  nor  was  it 
that  of  an  officer,  but  these  were  minor  details 
to  which  no  attention  would  be  paid  in  the  press 
of  a  great  campaign. 

The  matter  of  the  uniform  disposed  of,  we 
pressed  forward  with  renewed  spirit,  and  soon 
reached  the  first  sentinels  of  our  army,  which 
we  found  surrounding  that  of  Burgoyne.  It 
was  with  great  satisfaction  that  I  delivered 
Chudleigh  to  my  colonel. 

The  colonel  was  delighted  at  the  recapture, 
and  praised  me  with  such  freedom  that  I  began 
to  have  a  budding  suspicion  that  I  ought  to  be 
commander  in  chief  of  the  army.  However.  I 
made  no  mention  of  the  suspicion.  Instead, 
1  suggested  to  the  colonel  that  as  Chudleigh 


242  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

had  escaped  once,  he  might  escape  again,  and 
it  would  l3e  well  to  exchange  him  for  some 
officer  of  ours  whom  the  British  held. 

The  colonel  took  to  the  idea,  and  said  he 
would  speak  to  the  general  about  it.  In  the 
morning  he  told  me  it  would  be  done,  and  I 
immediately  asked  him  for  the  favor  of  taking 
Chudleigh  into  the  British  camp,  saying  that  as 
I  had  been  his  jailer  so  much  already,  I  would 
like  to  continue  in  that  capacity  until  the  end. 

The  colonel  was  in  great  good  humor  with 
me,  and  he  granted  the  request  forthwith.  As 
I  left  to  carry  out  the  business,  he  said,  "  The 
exchange  is  well  enough,  but  we'll  probably 
have  your  man  back  in  a  few  days." 

In  truth  it  did  look  rather  odd  that  the 
British  should  be  exchanging  prisoners  witli  us 
upon  what  we  regarded  as  the  unavoidable  eve 
of  their  surrender,  but  they  chose  to  persevere 
in  the  idea  that  we  were  yet  equal  enemies. 
Nevertheless,  the  coils  of  our  army  were  steadily 
tightening  around  them.  All  the  fords  were 
held  by  our  troops.  Our  1)est  sharpshooters 
swept  the  British  camp,  and  it  is  no  abuse  of 
metaphor  to  say  that  Burgoyne's  army  was 
rimmed  around  by  a  circle  of  fire. 


MV   THANKS. 


M3 


I  found  Chudleigh  reposing  under  a  tree, 
and  told  him  to  get  up  and  start  with  me  at 
once. 

"  What  new  expedition  is  this?  "  he  asked 
(hscontentedly.  "  Can  not  I  be  permitted  to 
rest  a  Httle?     I  will  not  try  to  escape  again?  ". 

I  told  him  he  was  about  to  be  exchanged, 
and  I  had  secured  the  privilege  of  escorting  him 
back  to  his  own  people. 

'*  That's  very  polite  of  you,"  he  said. 

I  really  believe  he  thought  so. 

For  the  second  time  I  entered  Burijovne's 
camp  under  a  white  Hag,  and  saw  all  the  signs 
of  distress  I  had  seen  before,  only  in  a  sharper 
and  deeper  form.  The  wounded  and  sick  were 
more  numerous  and  the  well  and  strong  were 
fewer.    It  was  a  sorely  stricken  army. 

But  I  did  not  waste  much  time  in  such  ob- 
servations, which  of  necessity  would  have  been 
hut  limited  anyhow,  as  the  British  had  no  in- 
tent to  let  any  American  wander  at  will  about 
ilieir  camp  and  take  note  of  their  situation. 
When  we  were  halted  at  the  outskirts,  I  asked 
the  officer  who  received  us  for  Albert  Van  Au- 
ken,  who,  I  said,  was  a  friend  of  mine  and  of 
whose  safety  I  wished  to  be  assured.     He  was 


J44  THE   SUX   OF    SARATOGA. 

very   courteous,  and  in  a   few   minutes   Albert 
came. 

Albert  was  glad  to  see  me,  and  1  to  see  him. 
and  as  soon  as  we  had  shaken  hands  I  ap- 
])roached  the  matter  I  had  in  mind. 

*'  Madame  Van  Auken,  your  mother,  and 
your  sister,  are  they  well,  Albert?  "  1  asked. 

"  \^er\  well,  the  circumstances  considered," 
replied  Albert,  "  though  I  must  say  their  quar- 
ters are  rather  restricted.  You  can  see  the 
house  up  there;  they  have  been  living  for  the 
last  three  or  four  days  and  nights  in  its  cellar, 
crowded  up  with  other  women,  with  a  hospital 
beside  them,  and  the  cannon  balls  from  your 
army  often  crashing  over  their  heads.  It's 
rather  a  lively  life  for  women." 

"  Can't  I  see  your  sister,  Mistress  Cather- 
ine? "  I  asked.  "  I  have  something  to  say  to 
her  about  Chudleigh." 

"  \Miy,  certainly,"  he  replied.  "  Kate  w'ill 
always  be  glad  to  see  an  old  playmate  like  yon. 
Dick." 

He  was  so  obliging  as  to  go  at  once  and 
fetch  her.  She  looked  a  little  thin  and  touched 
by  care,  but  the  added  gravity  became  her.  She 
greeted  me  with  gratifying  warmth.     Wq  had 


MV    THANKS. 


^45 


Stepped  a  little  to  one  side,  and  after  the  greet- 
ings, I  said,  indicating  Chudleigh: 

"  I  have  brought  him  back  as  sound  and 
whole  as  he  was  the  day  he  started  on  this 
campaign." 

*'  That  must  be  very  pleasant  to  Captain 
Chudleigh,"  she  said  v»ith  a  faint  smile. 

*'  I  saved  him  from  a  possible  death  too," 
1  said. 

**  Captain  Chudleigh's  debt  of  gratitude  to 
you  is  large,"  she  replied. 

'*  I  have  taken  great  trouble  with  him,"  I 
said,  "  but  I  was  willing  to  do  it  all  on  your 
account.  I  have  brought  him  back,  and  I  make 
him  a  present  to  you." 

She  looked  me  squarely  in  the  eyes  for  a 
moment,  and  said,  as  she  turned  away: 

"  Dick,  you  are  a  fool!  " 

\\'hich  1  call  abrupt,  impolite,  ungrateful, 
and,  I  hope,  untrue. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE    BATTLE    OF    THE    GUNS. 

I  returned  to  our  camp  downcast  over  the 
failure  of  good  intentions,  and  convinced  that 
there  was  no  reward  in  this  Hfe  for  self-sacri- 
fice. Perhaps  if  I  were  to  fall  in  the  fighting 
and  Kate  Van  Auken  were  to  see  my  dead  body, 
she  would  be  sorry  she  had  called  me  a  fool. 
There  was  comfort  in  this  reflection.  The  idea 
that  I  was  a  martyr  cheered  me,  and  I  recovered 
with  a  rapidity  that  w^as  astonishing  to  myself. 

An  hour's  rest  was  permitted  me  before  my 
return  to  active  duty,  and  I  had  some  oppor- 
tunity to  observe  our  tactics,  which  I  concluded 
must  be  most  galling  to  the  enemy.  Some 
clouds  of  smoke  hung  over  both  encampments, 
and  the  crackling  of  the  rifles  of  the  sharp- 
shooters and  the  occasional  thud  of  the  cannon 
had  become  so  much  a  matter  of  course,  that  we 

scarce  paid  attention  to  them. 

246 

V. 


THE   BATTLE   OF   THE   GUNS. 


247 


When  my  hour  of  leisure  was  over  I  was 
assigned  to  duty  with  an  advanced  party  close 
up  to  Burgoyne's  camp.  It  was  much  to  my 
pleasure  that  I  found  W'hitestone  there  too. 
It  was  but  natural,  however,  that  we  should 
he  often  on  duty  together,  since  we  belonged 
to  the  same  company. 

W'hitestone,  according  to  his  habit,  had 
made  himself  comfortable  on  the  ground,  and, 
there  being  no  law  against  it,  was  smoking  the 
1  cloved  pipe,  which  like  its  master  was  a  vet- 
eran of  many  campaigns.  From  his  lounging 
place  he  could  see  a  portion  of  the  British 
camp. 

*'  Mr.  Shelby,"  said  he,  "  this  is  like  sitting 
l)y  and  watching  a  wounded  bear  die,  and  giving 
him  a  little  prod  now  and  then  to  hurry  the 
death  along." 

So  it  was.  and  it  was  no  wonder  the  sol- 
diers grew  impatient.  But  I  was  bound  to  con- 
fess that  the  policy  of  our  generals  was  right, 
and  by  it  they  would  win  as  much  and  save 
more  life. 

There  was  nothing  for  me  to  do,  and  I  kept 
my  eyes  most  of  the  time  on  the  house  Albert 
had  pointed  out  lO  me.     Crouched  in  its  cellar 


248  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

I  knew  were  scared  women  and  weeping  chil- 
dren, and  doubtless  Kate  and  her  mother  were 
among  them.  Once  a  cannon  ball  struck  the 
house  and  went  through  it,  burying  itself  in 
the  ground  on  the  other  side.  1  held  my  breath 
for  a  little,  but  I  was  reassured  by  the  thought 
that  the  women  and  children  were  out  of  range 
in  the  cellar. 

Thus  the  day  passed  in  idleness  as  far  as  I 
was  concerned.  I  spent  it  not  unpleasantly  in 
gossip  with  W'hitestone.  The  nightfall  was 
dark,  and  under  cover  of  it  the  British  ran  a 
twenty-four  pounder  forward  into  a  good  posi- 
tion and  opened  fire  with  it  upon  some  of  our 
advanced  parties.  My  first  warning  of  the  at- 
tack was  a  loud  report  much  nearer  to  us  than 
usual,  followed  by  a  hissing  and  singing  as  it 
something  were  stinging  the  air,  and  then  a 
solid  chunk  of  iron  struck  the  earth  with  a 
vengeful  swish  a  few  yards  from  us.  A  cloud 
of  dirt  was  spattered  in  our  faces,  stinging  us 
like  bees. 

When  we  had  recovered  from  our  surprise, 
and  assured  ourselves  we  were  neither  dead  nor 
dying,  we  made  remarks  about  chance,  and  tlie 
probability   that   no   other  cannon  ball   would 


THE    BATTLE   OF    THE   GUNS. 


249 


Strike  near  us  during  the  campaign.  Just  as 
tlie  last  of  such  remarks  were  spoken  we  heard 
I  he  roar  and  heavy  boom,  followed  by  the  rapid 
swish  through  the  air,  and  the  cannon  ball 
struck  a  full  yard  nearer  to  us  than  the  first. 
We  used  vigorous  and.  I  fear,  bad  language, 
which,  however,  is  a  great  relief  sometimes,  es- 
pecially to  a  soldier. 

*'  They've  pushed  that  gun  up  too  close  to 
us,"  said  W'hitestone.  "  It's  among  those  trees 
across  there.    The  darkness  has  helped  them." 

W^e  were  of  opinion  that  the  men  with  the 
i^un  had  our  range — that  is,  of  our  particular 
party — and  we  thought  it  wise  and  healthy  to 
lie  down  and  expose  the  least  possible  surface. 
I  awaited  the  third  shot  with  much  curiosity 
and  some  apprehension. 

Presently  we  saw  a  twinkle,  as  of  a  powder 
match,  and  then  a  great  flash.  The  ball  shrieked 
through  the  air,  and  with  a  shiver  that  could 
not  be  checked  we  waited  for  it.  to  strike.  True 
to  its  predecessors,  it  followed  nearly  the  same 
course  and  smashed  against  a  stone  near  us. 
One  of  our  men  was  struck  by  the  reboimding 
of  fragments,  of  iron  or  stone,  and  severely 
wounded.     It  was  too  dark  to  see  well,  but  his 


250  THE   SUN  OF   SARATOGA. 

groans  spoke  for  him.  Whitestone  and  I  took 
hold  of  him  and  carried  him  back  for  treat- 
ment. Wliile  we  were  gone,  one  man  was  slain 
and  another  wounded  in  the  same  way.  In 
the  darkness  that  British  cannon  had  become 
a  live  thing  and  was  stinging  us.  Some  of 
our  best  sharpshooters  were  chosen  to  slay  the 
cannoneers,  but  they  could  aim  only  by  the 
flash  of  the  gun,  and  the  men  loading  it  had 
the  woods  to  protect  them.  The  bullets  were 
wasted,  and  the  troublesome  hornet  stung  again 
and  again. 

We  were  perplexed.  Our  pride  as  well  as 
our  safety  was  concerned.  The  idea  came  to 
me  at  last. 

"  To  fight  fire  with  fire  is  an  old  saying," 
I  remarked  to  Wdiitestone. 

"  Wliat  do  you  mean?  "  he  asked. 

*'  Why.  we  must  have  a  cannon  too,"  I 
said. 

He  understood  at  once,  for  Whitestone  is 
not  a  dull  man.  He  volunteered  to  get  the 
cannon  and  I  went  along  with  him  to  help.  We 
presented  our  claim  with  such  urgency  and  elo- 
quence that  the  artillery  officer  to  whom  we 
went  was  impressed.    Also  he  was  near  enough 


THE   BATTLE   OF    THE    GUNS.  25 1 

to  see  how  damaging  and  dangerous  the  Brit- 
ish cannon  had  become. 

'*  You  can  have  Old  Ty,"  he  said,  "  and  be 
sure  you  make  good  use  of  him." 

I  did  not  understand,  but  Wliitestone  did. 
He  knew  Old  Ty.  He  explained  that  Old 
Ty,  which  was  short  for  "  Old  Ticonderoga," 
was  a  t\\enty-four  pounder  taken  at  Ticon- 
deroga early  'n  the  war  by  Ethan  Allen  and  his 
Green  ]Mountain  Boys.  It  had  done  so  much 
service  and  in  so  many  campaigns  that  the  gun- 
ners had  affectionately  nicknamed  the  veteran 
Old  Ty  in  memory  of  the  fortress  in  which 
he  had  been  taken. 

"  Tve  seen  Old  Ty,"  said  Whitestone. 
"  He's  been  battered  about  a  good  lot,  but  he's 
got  a  mighty  bad  bark  and  a  worse  bite." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  groaning  of  wheels  and 
tlie  shout  of  the  driver  to  the  horses  announced 
the  approach  of  Old  Ty.  I  stood  aside  with 
respect  while  the  gun  passed,  and  a  grim  and 
fierce  old  veteran  he  was,  full  worthy  the  respect 
of  a  youngster  such  as  I  felt  myself  to  be. 

Old  Ty  was  of  very  dark  metal,  and  there 
were  many  scars  upon  him  where  he  had  re- 
ceived the  blov/s  of  enemies  of  a  like  caliber. 
X7 


252  THE    SUN    OF    SARATOGA. 

A  wheel  which  had  been  struck  bv  a  baU  in  the 
heat  of  action  was  bent  a  trifle  to  one  side,  and 
Old  Ty  rolled  along  as  if  he  were  a  little 
lame  and  didn't  mind  it.  His  big  black  muz- 
zle grinned  at  me  as  if  he  were  proud  of  his  scars, 
and  felt  cfood  for  manv  more. 

Just  ]:)ehin(l  the  gun  walked  a  man  as  ugly 
and  battered  as  Old  Ty  himself. 

**  That's  Goss.  the  gunner."  said  White- 
stone.  '■  He's  been  with  Old  Ty  all  through 
the  war.  and  loves  him  better  than  his  wife." 

On  went  the  fierce  and  ugly  pair  like  two 
who  knew  their  duty  and  loved  it. 

The  night,  as  usual  after  the  first  rush  of 
darkness,  had  begun  to  brighten  a  bit.  \\\' 
could  see  the  British  cannon,  a  long,  ugly  piece, 
without  waiting  for  its  flash;  yet  its  gunners 
were  protected  so  well  by  fresh-felled  trees  and 
a  swell  of  the  earth  that  our  sharpshooters  couKl 
not  pick  them  ofif.  They  were  in  good  position, 
and  nothing  lighter  than  Old  Ty  could  drive 
them  out  of  it. 

The  British  saw  what  we  were  about  and 
sought  to  check  us.  They  fired  more  rapidly, 
and  a  cannon  ball  smashed  one  of  the  horses 
hitched   to   Old   Ty   almost    to   a   pulp.      But 


THE    BATTLE    OF   THE   GUNS.  253 

(loss  Sprang  forward,  seized  one  wheel,  and 
threw  the  veteran  into  place. 

Old  Ty  had  a  position  nuich  like  that  of 
his  antagonist,  and  Goss,  stroking  his  iron  coni- 
vddc  like  one  who  pets  an  old  friend,  began  to 
NL-ek  the  range,  and  take  very  long  and  careful 
looks  at  the  enemy.  Lights  along  the  line  of 
cither  army  tlared  up,  and  many  looked  on. 

"  Lie  riat  on  the  ground  here,"  said  White- 
stone  to  me.  "  This  is  going  to  be  a  pitched 
1  tattle  betw.een  the  big  guns,  and  you  want  to 
look  out." 

1  adopted  W'hitestone's  advice,  thinking 
It  verv  grood.  Old  Tv's  big  black  muzzle 
i;rinncd  threateningly  across  at  his  antagonist, 
a>  if  he  longed  to  show  his  teeth,  but  waited 
the  word  and  hand  of  his  comrade. 

"  There  goes  the  bark  of  the  other!  "  cried 
W  hitestone. 

The  bright  blaze  sprang  u\),  the  British  can- 
nun  roared,  and  hurled  his  shot.  The  mass  of 
iron  swept  over  Old  Ty  and  buried  itself  in 
the  hillside. 

"  Much  bark,  but  no  bite,"  said  White- 
stone. 

Old  Ty,  black  and  defiant,  was  yet  silent. 


254 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


Goss  was  not  a  man  who  hurried  himself  or  his 
comrade.  We  waited,  breathless.  Suddenly 
Goss  leaned  over  and  touched  the  match. 

Old  Ty  spoke  in  the  hoarse,  roaring  voice 
that  indicates  much  wear.  One  of  the  felled 
trees  in  the  British  position  was  shattered,  and 
the  ball  bounded  to  the  right  and  was  lost  to 
sight. 

"  A  little  bite,"  said  Whitestone,  ''  but  not 
deep  enough." 

Old  Ty  smoked  and  grew  blacker,  as 
if  he  were  not  satisfied  with  himself.  They 
swabbed  out  his  mouth  and  fdled  it  with  iron 
again. 

Where  I  lay  I  could  see  the  muzzles  of  both 
cannon  threateriing  each  other.  The  Briton 
was  slower  than  before,  as  if  he  wished  to  be  sure. 
Goss  continued  to  pat  his  comrade  by  way  of 
stirring  up  his  spirit.  That  did  not  seem  to 
me  to  be  needed,  for  Old  Ty  was  the  very 
fellow  I  would  have  chosen  for  such  a  furious 
contention  as  this. 

The  two  champions  spoke  at  the  same 
instant,  and  the  roar  of  them  was  so  great 
that  for  the  moment  I  thought  I  would  be 
struck  deaf.    A  great  cloud  of  smoke  enveloped 


THE   BATTLE   OF   THE   GUNS.  255 

either  cannon,  but  when  it  raised  both  sides 
cheered. 

Old  Ty  had  received  a  fresh  blow  on  his 
lame  wheel,  and  careened  a  little  farther  to 
one  side,  but  the  Briton  was  hit  the  harder  of 
the  two.  His  axle  had  been  battered  by  Old 
Ty's  ball,  and  the  British  were  as  busy  as  bees 
propping  him  up  for  the  third  raid. 

"  Rather  evenly  matched,"  grunted  White- 
stone,  "  and  both  full  of  grit.  I  think  we  shall 
have  some  very  pretty  sport  here." 

I  was  of  \\'hitestone's  opinion. 

I  could  see  Goss  frowning.  He  did  not  like 
the  w^ound  Old  Ty  had  received,  and  stroked 
the  lame  wheel.  "  Steady,  old  partner,"  I  heard 
him  say.    "  We'll  beat  'em  yet." 

All  at  once  I  noticed  that  the  lights  along 
the  line  had  increased,  and  some  thousands  were 
looking  on  at  the  battle  of  the  two  giants. 

"  Old  Ty  must  win!  "  I  said  to  Whitestone. 
"  We  can't  let  him  lose." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Whitestone,  shaking 
his  head.  ''  A  battle's  never  over  till  the  last 
shot's  fired." 

The  Briton  was  first,  and  it  was  well  that  we 
were  sheltered.     The  ball  glanced  along   Old 


256  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

Ty's  barrel,  making  a  long  rip  in  the  iron, 
and  bounded  over  our  heads  and  across  the 
hill. 

**  Old  Ty  got  it  that  time,"  said  White- 
stone.     "  That  was  a  cruel  blow." 

He  spoke  truth,  and  a  less  seasoned  veteran 
than  Old  Ty  would  have  been  crushed  by  it. 
There  was  a  look  of  deep  c(>ncern  on  Goss's 
face  as  he  ran  his  hand  over  the  huge  rent  in 
Old  Ty's  side.  Then  his  face  brightened  a 
bit,  and  I  concluded  the  veteran  was  good  for 
more  hard  blows. 

The  blow  must  have  had  some  effect  upon 
Old  Ty's  voice  or  temper.  At  any  rate,  when 
he  replied  his  roar  was  hoarser  and  angrier. 
A  crv  arose  from  the  British  ranks,  and  I 
saw  them  taking  away  a  body.  Old  Ty  had 
tasted  blood.  But  the  British  cannon  was  as 
formidable  as  ever. 

"  The  chances  look  a  bit  against  Old  Ty." 
commented  W'hitestone,  and  I  had  to  confcs> 
to  myself,  although  with  reluctance,  that  ii 
was  so. 

Goss  was  very  slow  in  his  preparations  for 
the  fourth  shot.  He  had  the  men  to  steady 
Old  Ty,  and  he  made  a  slight  change  in  the 


THE   BATTLE   OK   THE   GUNS. 


257 


elevation.  Again  both  spoke  at  the  same  time, 
and  Old  Ty  groaned  aloud  as  the  mass  of 
British  iron  tore  along  his  barrel,  ripping  out 
a  gap  deeper  and  longer  than  any  other. 
His  own  bolt  tore  off  one  of  the  Briton's 
wheels. 

"  The  Englishman's  on  one  leg,"  said  White- 
stone,  "  but  Old  Ty's  got  it  next  to  the  heart. 
Chances  two  to  one  in  favor  of  the  English- 
man." 

I  sighed.  Poor  Old  Ty!  I  cc  ,ild  not  bear 
to  see  the  veteran  beaten.  Goss's  hard,  dark 
face  showed  cfrief.  He  examined  Old  Tv 
with  care  and  fumbled  about  him. 

"  What  is  he  doing?  ''  I  asked  of  White- 
stone,  who  lay  nearer  the  gun. 

"  I  think  he's  trying  to  see  if  Old  Ty  will 
stand  another  shot,"  he  said.  "  He's  got  some 
big  rips  in  the  barrel,  and  he  may  leave  in  all 
directions  when  the  powder  explodes." 

Old  Ty  in  truth  was  ragged  and  torn  like 
a  veteran  in  his  last  fight.  The  Briton  had  lost 
one  wheel  and  was  propped  up  on  the  side,  but 
his  black  muzzle  looked  triumphant  across  the 
way. 

The   British   fired  again  and  then   shouted 


258  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

in  triumph.  Old  Ty,  too,  had  lost  a  wheel, 
which  the  shot  had  pounded  into  old  iron. 

*'  Old  Ty  is  near  his  end,"  said  White- 
stone.  "  One  leg  gone  and  holes  in  his  body 
as  big  as  my  hat;   that's  too  much!  " 

Old  Ty  was  straightened  up,  and  Goss 
giving  the  word,  the  shot  was  rolled  into  his 
wide  mouth.  Then  the  gunner,  as  grim  and 
battered  as  his  gun,  took  aim.  Upon  the  in- 
stant all  our  men  rushed  to  cover. 

Goss  touched  the  match,  and  a  crash  far  out- 
doing all  the  others  stunned  us.  With  the  noise 
in  my  ears  and  the  smoke  in  my  eyes  I  knew  not 
what  had  happened.  But  Whitestone  cried 
aloud  in  joy.  Rubbing  my  eyes  clear,  I  looked 
across  to  see  the  effect  of  the  shot.  I  saw  only 
a  heap  of  rubbish.  Old  Ty's  bolt  had  smote 
his  enemy  and  blown  up  the  caisson  and  the 
cannon  with  it. 

Then  I  looked  at  Old  Ty  to  see  how  he 
bore  his  triumph,  but  his  mighty  barrel  was 
split  asunder  and  he  was  a  cannon  no  longer, 
just  pieces  of  old  iron. 

Sitting  on  a  log  was  some  one  with  tears  on 
his  hard,  brown  face.  It  was  Goss,  the  gunner, 
w^eeping  over  the  end  of  his  comrade. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    MAX    FROM    CLINTON. 

At  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  went  off 
duty,  and  at  five  minutes  past  one  o'clock  I  had 
begun  a  very  pleasant  and  healthful  slumber. 
At  eight  o'clock  I  awoke,  and  found  Wliite- 
stone  sitting  by  a  little  fire  cooking  strips  of 
bacon,  some  of  which  he  was  so  kind  as  to 
give  me. 

Whitestone's  face  was  puffed  out  in  the  man- 
ner of  one  who  has  news  to  tell,  and  I  was 
quite  willing  that  he  should  gratify  himself  by 
telling  it  to  me. 

"  What  is  it,  Whitestone?  "  I  asked.  "  Has 
the  British  army  surrendered  while  I  slept?  " 

"  N'o,"  said  Whitestone,  "  and  it  may  not 
surrender  after  all." 

"Wliat!"  I  exclaimed. 

It's  just  as  I  say,"  said  Whitestone,  Ught- 

259 


(( 


26o  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

ing  the  inevitable  pipe.     "It  may  not  surrender 
after  all." 

"  WMiat  has  happened?" 

Whitestone's  cheeks  continued  to  swell  with 
a  sense  of  importance. 

*'  Clinton's  advancing  with  seven  thousand 
men,"  he  said. 

'*  That's  nothing,"  I  said.  "  Clinton's  been 
advancing  for  weeks,  and  he  never  gets  near  us." 

"  But  he  is  near  us  this  time,  sure  enough," 
said  the  sergeant  very  seriously. 

I  was  still  uni^elieving,  and  looked  my  un- 
belief. 

''It's  as  I  say,"  resumed  the  sergeant; 
"  there  is  no  doubt  about  it.  Just  after  day- 
light this  morning  some  skirmishers  took  a 
messenger  from  Clinton,  who  bore  dispatches 
announcing  his  arrival  within  a  very  short  time. 
It  seems  that  Clinton  is  much  farther  up  the 
river  than  we  supposed,  and  that  his  army  is 
also  much  larger  than  all  our  reckonings  made 
it.  I  guess  that  with  re-enforcements  he  got 
over  the  fright  we  gave  him." 

This  in  truth  sounded  like  a  matter  of  mo- 
ment. I  asked  Whitestone  if  he  was  sure  of 
what  he  reported,  and  he  said  the  news  was  all 


THE    MAN    FROM   CLINTON.  26 1 

over  the  camp.  I  must  confess  that  1  feh  as  if 
it  were  a  personal  blow.  I  had  looked  upon  the 
capture  of  Burgoync  as  a  certainty,  but  the 
arrival  of  Clinton  with  seven  thousand  fresh 
men  would  be  sure  to  snatch  the  prize  from  us. 
It  looked  like  a  very  jest  of  fate  that  we  should 
lose  our  spoil  after  all  our  labors  and  battles. 

'*  What's  to  be  done,  W'hitestone?  "  I  asked 
gloomily. 

"  In  a  case  of  this  kind,"  he  rephed,  "  I'm 
glad  that  I'm  a  humble  sergeant,  and  not  a  gen- 
eral. Let  tlie  generals  settle  it.  Take  another 
piece  of  the  bacon;   it's  crisp  and  fresh." 

"  Have  you  seen  this  captured  messenger?  " 
I  asked. 

*'  No,"  replied  Whitestone.  "  They  have 
him  in  a  tent  over  yonder,  and  I  think  the 
ofificers  have  been  busy  with  him,  trying  to 
pump  him." 

As  soon  as  I  finished  the  bacon  I  walked 
about  the  camp  to  see  if  I  could  learn  anything 
hirther  concerning  the  matter,  in  which  attempt 
I  failed.  I  saw,  however,  its  effect  upon  the 
army,  which  vented  its  feelings  largely  in  the  way 
of  swearing.  Th^  soldiers  expected  we  would 
have  to  leave  Burgoyne  and  turn  southward  to 


262  THE   SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 

fight  Clinton.  Some  said  luck  was  always 
against  us. 

I  was  interrupted  in  my  stroll  by  a  message 
from  my  colonel  to  come  at  once.  I  hurried 
to  him  with  some  apprehension.  He  had  ex- 
pressed his  high  confidence  in  me  of  late,  and, 
as  I  have  said  before,  these  high  confidences 
bring  hard  duties. 

But  the  matter  was  not  so  difficult  as  I  had 
expected. 

"  Mr.  Shelby,"  said  the  colonel,  '*  we  took 
prisoner  this  morning  a  man  bearing  important 
dispatches  from  Clinton  to  Burgoyne — you 
have  heard  about  it,  doubtless;  it  seems  to  ^^e 
known  all  over  the  camp — and  I  am  directly 
responsible  for  his  safe  keeping  for  the  time 
being.  He  is  in  that  tent  wdiich  you  can  see 
on  the  hillside.  Take  three  men  and  guard  him. 
You  need  not  intrude  upon  him,  though;  he 
seems  to  be  a  very  gentlemanly  fellow." 

Of  course  I  chose  Whitestone  as  one  of  mv 
three  men,  and  we  began  our  guard  over  the 
tent.  I  understood  from  the  gossip  Whitestone 
had  picked  up  that  the  generals  were  debating 
what  movement  to  make  after  the  important 
news  obtained,  and  probably  they  would  exam- 


THE   MAN   FROM   CLINTON.  263 

ine  the  prisoner  again  later  on.  It  was  not  at  all 
likely  that  the  prisoner,  placed  as  he  was  in  the 
center  of  our  camp,  could  escape,  but  there 
might  be  reasons  for  keeping  him  close  in  the 
tent;   so  our  watch  was  very  strict. 

Nevertheless,  Whitestone  and  I  chatted  a 
bit,  which  was  within  our  right,  and  tried  to 
guess  what  would  be  the  result  of  the  cam- 
paign if  we  had  to  turn  southward  and  fight 
Clinton,  with  Burgoyne  on  our  rear.  Doubtless 
some  of  these  comments  and  queries  were  heard 
by  the  prisoner,  whose  feet  I  could  see  sticking 
out  in  front  of  the  tent  flap,  but  whose  body 
was  beyond  our  view.  But  I  did  not  see  that  it 
mattered,  and  we  talked  on  with  freedom.  Once 
I  saw  the  prisoner's  feet  bob  up  a  bit,  as  if  he 
suffered  from  some  kind  of  nervous  contraction, 
but  I  made  very  slight  note  of  it. 

The  debate  of  the  generals  lasted  long,  and 
I  inferred,  therefore,  that  their  perplexity  was 
great.  Whitestone  and  I  ceased  to  talk,  and  as 
I,  having  command  of  the  little  detachment, 
was  under  no  obligation  to  parade,  musket  on 
shoulder,  I  sat  down  on  a  stone  near  the  flap 
of  the  tent  and  made  myself  as  comfortable  as 
I  could.     From  my  position  I  could  still  see 


264  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

the  prisoner's  boots,  a  substantial  British  pair, 
of  a  kind  that  we  could  envy,  for  most  of  tlie 
time  we  were  nearly  bare  of  foot,  sometimes 
entirely  so. 

The  camp  was  peaceful,  on  the  whole.  The 
rattle  of  drums,  the  sound  of  voices,  rose  in  the 
regular,  steady  fashion  which  becomes  a  hum. 
The  prisoner  was  silent — unusually  silent.  He 
seemed  to  have  no  curiosity  about  us,  and  to 
prefer  to  remain  in  the  shadow  of  his  tent.  In 
his  place,  I  would  have  had  my  head  out  look- 
ing at  everything.  I  noticed  presently  the  atti- 
tude of  his  boots.  They  were  cocked  up  on 
their  heels,  toes  high  in  the  air.  I  inferred  im- 
mediately that  the  man  was  lying  flat  on  his 
back,  which  was  not  at  all  unreasonable,  as  he 
probably  needed  rest  after  traveling  all  night. 

The  hum  of  the  camp  became  a  murmur, 
and  it  was  answered  by  a  slighter  murmur  from 
the  tent.  The  prisoner  was  snoring.  He  was 
not  only  flat  upon  his  back,  but  asleep.  I  felt 
an  admiration  for  the  calmness  of  mind  whicli 
could  turn  placidly  to  slumber  in  such  an  excit- 
ing situation.  A  curiosity  about  this  prisoner, 
already  born  in  me,  began  to  grow.  He  was 
most  likely  a  man  worth  knowing. 


THE    MAN    FROM   CLINTON.  265 

I  concluded  that  1  would  take  a  look  at  the 
sleeping  Englishman  despite  my  orders.  I  did 
not  mention  mv  idea  to  W'hitestone,  because 
I  thought  he  might  object,  and  hint  it  was 
none  of  my  business  to  go  in.  I  stooped  down 
and  entered  the  tent,  which  was  a  small 
one.  As  I  surmised,  the  prisoner  was  lying 
upon  his  back  and  was  fast  asleep.  The 
snore,  which  became  much  more  assertive 
now  that  I  had  entered  the  tent,  left  no  dou1)t 
about  his  slumbers.  Yet  I  could  not  see  his 
face,  which  was  far  l)ack  under  the  edge  of  the 
tent. 

I  reached  back  and  pulled  the  tent-flap  still 
farther  aside,  letting  in  a  fine  flow  of  sunlight. 
It  fell  directly  upon  the  face  of  the  prisoner, 
bringing  out  every  feature  with  the  distinct- 
ness of  carving. 

My  first  emotion  was  surprise;  my  second, 
v\Tath;   my  third,  amusement. 

The  prisoner  was  Albert  \"an  Auken. 

I  do  not  claim  that  mine  is  the  acutest  mind 
in  the  world;  but  at  a  single  glance  I  saw  to 
the  bottom  of  the  whole  affair,  and  the  desire 
to  laugh  grew  very  strong  upon  me.  It  had 
not  been  twentv-four  hours  since  I  was  talk- 


266  THE   SUN  OF   SARATOGA. 

ing  to  Albert  Van  Auken  in  Burgoyne's  camp, 
and  here  he  was  a  prisoner  in  our  camp,  bring- 
ing dispatches  from  CUnton,  down  the  river,  to 
Burgoyne.  I  beUeve  some  things — not  all 
things. 

I  perceived  that  the  bright  light  shining 
directly  into  xAlbert's  eyes  would  soon  awaken 
him.  In  truth  he  was  yawning  even  then.  I 
sat  down  in  front  of  him,  closing  my  arms 
around  my  knees  in  the  attitude  of  one  who 
waits. 

Albert  yawned  prodigiously.  I  guessed  that 
he  must  have  been  up  all  the  previous  night 
to  have  become  so  sleepy.  He  would  have  re- 
lapsed into  slumber,  but  the  penetrating  streak 
of  sunshine  would  not  let  him.  It  played  all 
over  his  face,  and  inserting  itself  between  his 
eyelids,  pried  them  open. 

Albert  sat  up,  and,  after  the  manner  of  man, 
rubbed  his  eves.  He  knew  that  some  one  was 
in  the  tent  with  him,  but  lie  could  not  see  who 
it  was.  I  had  taken  care  of  that.  I  was  in  the 
dark  and  he  was  in  the  light. 

'*  Well,  what  is  it  you  wish?  "  he  asked,  after 
he  had  finished  rubbing  his  eyes. 

I  guessed  that  he  took  me  for  one  of  the 


THE    MAN    FROM   CLINTON. 


267 


general  officers  who  had  been  examining  him. 
I  have  a  trick  of  changing  my  voice  when  I 
wish  to  do  so,  and  this  was  one  of  the  times 
when  I  wished. 

"  I  am  to  ask  you  some  further  questions 
in  regard  to  the  matters  we  were  discussing 
this  morning,"  I  said. 

"Well!"  said  Albert  impatiently,  as  if  he 
would  like  to  be  done  with  it. 

"  According  to  the  dispatches  wdiich  we 
secured  when  we  took  you,"  I  said,  ''  Sir  Henry 
Clinton  w-as  very  near  at  hand  with  a  large 
army." 

''  Certainly,"  said  Albert,  in  a  tone  of  great 
emphasis. 

"  It  is  strange,"  I  said,  '*  that  we  did  not 
hear  of  his  near  approach  until  we  took  you  this 
morning.  Our  scouts  and  skirmishers  have 
brought  us  no  such  news." 

*'  It  is  probably  due  to  the  fact,  general," 
said  Albert  politely,  "  that  we  captured  your 
scouts  and  skirmishers  as  w^e  advanced  north- 
ward. Our  celerity  of  movement  was  so  great 
that  they  could  not  escape  us." 

"  That  was  remarkable  marching,  in  truth," 

I  said  admiringly.     "  You  Englishmen  are  as 
18 


268  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

rapid  in  movement  as  you  are  strenuous  in 
battle." 

*'  Thank  you,  general,"  said  Albert,  with 
complacent  vanity.  I  felt  a  strong  inclination 
to  kick  him.  I  hate  Tories,  and,  in  particular, 
those  who  would  have  people  think  they  are 
Englishmen. 

"  I  believe  you  said  Sir  Henry  Clinton  had 
several  thousand  men  with  him,"  I  resumed. 

"  I  did  not  say  it,"  replied  Albert,  *'  but 
most  unfortunately  it  was  revealed  in  the  dis- 
patches which  you  captured  upon  me.  I  may 
add,  however,  that  the  number  is  nearer  eight 
thousand  than  seven  thousand." 

I  understood  the  impression  he  wished  to 
create,  and  I  was  willing  to  fur*  her  his  humor. 

'*  Eight  thousand  with  Sir  Henry  Clinton," 
I  said,  as  if  musing,  ''  and  Burgoyne  has  six 
thousand;  that  makes  fourteen  thousand,  all 
regular  troops,  thoroughly  armed  and  equipped 
otherwise-  We  can  scarce  hope  to  capture 
both  armies." 

"  Not  both,  nor  one  either,"  said  Albert  in 
derision.  *'  As  a  matter  of  fact,  general,  I  think 
you  will  have  some  difficulty  in  looking  after 
your  own  safety." 


THE    MAN   FROM   CLINTON.  269 


a 


By  what  manner  of  reasoning  do  you  ar- 
rive at  that  conckision?"  asked  I,  wishing  to 
lead  him  on. 

''  Oh,  well,  you  know  what  British  troops 
are,"  said  Albert  superciliously;  "and  when 
fourteen  thousand  of  them  are  together,  I 
imagine  that  troubles  have  arrived  for  their 
enemies." 

My  inclination  to  kick  him  took  on  a  sud- 
den and  violent  increase.  It  was  with  the  most 
extreme  difficulty  that  I  retained  command 
over  my  mutinous  foot. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  as  you  assert,"  I  said  musing- 
ly. "  In  fact  there  would  seem  to  be  no  doubt 
that  it  is  bes:  for  us  to  let  Burgoyne  go,  and 
retreat  with  what  rapidity  we  can." 

''  Of  course!  of  course!  "  said  Albert  eagerly. 
''  That  is  the  only  thing  you  can  do." 

Now  a  desire  to  laugh  instead  of  a  desire 
to  kick  overspread  me;  but  I  mastered  it  as 
I  had  the  other. 

•'  I  wish  to  tell  you,  however,"  I  said,  as- 
suming my  politest  manner,  "  and  in  telling 
you  I  speak  for  the  other  American  generals, 
that  however  little  we  are  pleased  with  the 
news  you  bear,  we  are  much  pleased  with  the 


270 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


bearer.  We  have  found  you  to  be  a  young 
gentleman  of  courtesy,  breeding,  and  discern- 
ment." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Albert  in  a  tone  of  much 
gratification. 

**  And,"  I  resumed,  "  we  have  arrived  at  a 
certain  conclusion;  I  may  add  also  that  we  have 
arrived  at  that  conclusion  quickly  and  unani- 
mously." 

"  \Miat  is  it?  "  asked  Albert  with  eager  in- 
terest. 

"  That  we  have  met  many  graceful  and  ac- 
complished liars  in  our  time,  but  of  them  all 
you  are  the  most  graceful  and  accomplished," 
I  said  with  grave  politeness,  my  tongue  linger- 
ing over  the  long  words. 

Albert  uttered  something  which  sounded 
painfully  and  amazingly  like  an  oath,  and  sprang 
to  his  feet,  his  face  flushing  red  with  anger  or 
shame,  I  am  uncertain  which. 

He  raised  his  hand  as  if  he  would  strike  me, 
but  I  moved  around  a  little,  and  the  light  in  its 
turn  fell  on  iny  face.  He  uttered  another  cry, 
and  this  time  there  was  no  doubt  about  its 
being  an  oath.  He  looked  at  me,  his  face  grow- 
ing redder  and  redder. 


THE    MAN    FROM   CLINTON. 


271 


*'  Dick,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  deep  reproach, 
"  I  call  this  devilish  unkind." 

''  The  unkindness  is  all  on  your  side,  Albert," 
I  retorted.  "  You  have  given  me  more  trouble 
in  this  campaign  than  all  the  rest  of  Burgoyne's 
army — if  that  fellow  Chudleigh  be  counted  out 
— and  here  I  have  you  on  my  hands  again." 

"Who  asked  you  to  come  into  my  tent?" 
said  Albert  angrily.  "  I  heard  you  outside  a 
while  ago,  but  I  did  not  think  you  \vould  come 


in." 


"  That  was  when  your  feet  bobbed  up,"  I 
said.  *'  You  must  retain  more  control  over 
them,  Albert.  Now  that  I  think  of  it,  and  trace 
things  to  their  remote  causes,  that  movement 
first  stirred  in  me  the  curiositv  to  see  vour  face, 
and  not  your  feet  only.  Have  them  amputated, 
Albert." 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do?  "  he  asked  with 
an  air  of  resignation. 

"  Mean  to  do!  "  I  said  in  a  tone  of  surprise. 
"  Why,  I  mean  to  retreat  with  all  the  remainder 
of  our  army  as  quickly  as  w^e  can  in  order  to  get 
out  of  the  way  of  those  fourteen  thousand  in- 
vincible British  veterans  who  w'ill  soon  be  united 
in  one  force." 


2/2 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


*'  Now  Stop  that,  Dick,"  said  Albert  en- 
treatingly.     ''  Don't  be  too  hard  on  a  fellow." 

"  All  right,"  I  replied;   '*  go  to  sleep  again." 

Without  further  ado  I  left  the  tent,  and 
found  Whitestone  waiting  outside  in  some 
anxiety. 

"  You  stayed  so  long,"  he  said,  *'  I  thought 
perhaps  the  fellow  had  killed  you." 

*'  Not  by  any  means  as  bad  as  that,"  I  re- 
plied. "  I  found  him  to  be  a  very  pleasant 
young  man,  and  we  had  a  conversation  long 
and  most  interesting." 

"  About  what?  "  Whitestone  could  not  keep 
from  asking. 

"  About  many  things,"  I  replied,  ''  and  one 
thing  that  I  learned  was  of  special  importance." 

"What  was  that?" 

"  How  to  send  Clinton  and  his  eight  thou- 
sand men  back  below  Albany,  hold  Burgoyne 
fast,  and  continue  the  campaign  as  it  was  be- 
gun." 

"  That's  a  pretty  big  job,"  said  W^hitestone, 
"  for  one  man,  and  that  one,  too,  rather  young 
and  not  overweighted  with  rank." 

''  Maybe  you  think  so,"  I  said  with  lofty  in- 
difiference.    "  But  I  can  do  it,  and,  what  is  more, 


THE   MAN   FROM   CLINTON. 


273 


I  will  prove  to  you  that  I  can.  You  can  stay 
here  while  I  go  down  to  the  council  of  generals 
and  tell  them  what  to  do." 

Not  giving  Whitestone  time  to  recover,  I 
stalked  off  in  a  state  of  extreme  dignity. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

NOT   A    DROP    TO    DRINK. 

I  pressed  into  the  council  of  the  generals 
with  an  energy  that  would  not  be  denied,  also 
with  some  strength  of  the  knee,  as  an  officious 
aid-de-camp  can  testify  even  at  this  late  day. 
As  a  matter  of  course,  my  information  was  of 
such  quality  that  everybody  was  delighted  with 
me  and  praise  became  common.  Again  I  felt 
as  if  I  ought  to  be  commander  in  chief.  Again 
I  had  sufficient  self-sacrifice  to  keep  the  thought 
to  myself. 

As  I  left  the  room  they  were  talking  about 
the  disposition  of  the  prisoner  who  had  tried 
to  trick  us  into  precipitate  flight  and  the  aban- 
donment of  our  prey.  This  put  an  idea  into 
my  head,  and  I  told  it  to  a  colonel  near  the 
door,  who  in   his   turn   told  it   to   their  high 

mightinesses,    the    generals,    who    were    wise 

274 


NOT   A  DROP   TO   DRINK. 


275 


enough  to  approve  of  it,  and,  in  truth,  to  indorse 
it  most  heartily. 

I  suggested  that  Albert  be  sent  back  to  Bur- 
goyne  with  the  most  gracious  compliments  of 
our  commander  in  chief,  who  was  pleased  to  hear 
the  news  of  the  speedy  arrival  of  Clinton,  which 
would  greatly  increase  the  number  of  prisoners 
we  were  about  to  take.  I  asked,  as  some  small 
reward  for  my  great  services,  that  I  be  chosen 
to  escort  Albert  into  the  British  camp  and  de- 
liver the  m.essage.  That,  too,  w^as  granted 
readily. 

"  You  can  deliver  the  message  by  word  of 
mouth,"  said  one  of  the  generals;  "  it  would  be 
too  cruel  a  jest  to  put  it  in  writing,  and  perhaps 
our  dignity  would  suffer  also." 

I  was  not  thinking  so  much  of  the  jest  as  of 
another  plan  I  had  in  mind. 

I  found  Whitestone  keeping  faithful  watch 
at  the  tent. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  with  a  croak  that  he  meant 
for  a  laugh  of  sarcasm,  ''  I  suppose  the  gen- 
erals fell  on  your  neck  and  embraced  you  with 
delight  when  you  told  them  what  to  do." 

"  They  did  not  fall  on  my  neck,  but  cer- 
tainly they  were  very  much  delighted,"  I  said; 


2;6  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

''  and  they  are  going  to  do  everything  I  told 
ihem  to  do." 

*' That's  right,"  said  Whitestone.  ''Keep 
it  up.  While  you're  spinning  a  yarn,  spin  a  good 
one." 

''  It's  just  as  I  say,"  I  said,  "  and  as  the  first 
proof  of  it,  I  am  going  to  take  the  prisoner  as 
a  present  to  Burgoyne." 

Turning  my  back  on  the  worthy  sergeant, 
I  entered  the  tent,  and  found  Albert  reclining 
on  a  blanket,  the  expression  of  chagrin  still  on 
his  face.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  did  not  feel  at  all 
sorry  for  him,  for,  as  I  have  said  before,  Albert 
had  been  a  great  care  to  me. 

"  Get  up,"  I  said  with  a  roughness  intended, 
"  and  come  with  me." 

"  What  are  they  going  to  do  with  me?  " 
asked  Albert.  ''  They  can't  hang  me  as  a  spy; 
I  was  taken  in  full  uniform." 

"  Nobody  wants  to  hang  you,  or  do  you  any 

other  harm,"  I  said.     "  In  your  present  lively 

and  healthful  condition  you  afford  us  too  much 

amusement.  We  do  not  see  how  either  army 
could  spare  you.     Put  your  hat  on  and  come 


on." 


He  followed  very  obediently  and  said  noth- 


NOT  A   DROP   TO   DRINK. 


277 


ing.      He   knew   I   held   the   whip   hand   over 
him. 

"  Sergeant,"  I  said  to  Whitestone,  "  you 
need  not  watch  any  longer,  since  the  tent  is 
empty." 

Then  I  took  Albert  away  without  another 
word.  I  had  it  in  mind  to  punish  Whitestone, 
who  was  presuming  a  little  on  his  age  and  ex- 
perience and  his  services  to  me. 

I  really  could  not  help  laughing  to  myself 
as  I  went  along.  This  would  make  the  third 
time  I  had  entered  Burgoyne's  camp  as  an  es- 
cort— once  with  Chudleigh,  once  with  Albert's 
sister  and  mother,  and  now  with  Albert.  I  was 
fast  getting  to  be  at  home  in  either  camp.  I  be- 
gan to  feel  a  bit  of  regret  at  the  prospect  of  Bur- 
goyne's speedy  surrender,  w^hich  would  break  up 
all  these  pleasant  little  excursions. 

Albert  showed  surprise  when  he  saw  us  leav- 
ing our  camp  and  going  toward  Burgoyne's. 

''  What  are  you  going  to  do?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing,  except  to  take  you  back  where 
you  belong,"  I  said.  ''  W^e  don't  care  to  be 
bothered  with  you." 

*'  You  hold  me  rather  cheaply,"  he  said. 
Very,"  I  replied. 


<( 


2/8 


THE   SUN  OF  SARATOGA. 


The  return  of  Albert  was  an  easy  matter. 
I  met  a  colonel,  to  whom  I  delivered  him  and 
also  the  message  from  our  council.  The  colonel 
did  not  seem  to  know  of  Albert's  intended  mis- 
sion, for  the  message  puzzled  him.  I  offered 
no  explanations,  leaving  him  to  exaggerate  it 
or  diminish  it  in  the  transmission  as  he  pleased. 

When  I  turned  away  after  our  brief  colloquy, 
I  saw  Kate  Van  Auken,  which  was  what  I  had 
hoped  for  when  I  asked  the  privilege  of  bring- 
ing Albert  back.  Her  paleness  and  look  of  care 
had  increased,  but  again  I  was  compelled  to 
confess  to  myself  that  her  appearance  did  not 
suffer  by  it.  There  was  no  change  in  her 
spirit. 

"  Have  you  become  envoy  extraordinary 
and  minister  plenipotentiary  between  the  two 
camps,  Dick?  "  she  asked  in  a  tone  that  seemed 
to  me  to  be  touched  slightly  with  irony. 

''Perhaps,"  I  replied;  **T  have  merely  brought 
your  brother  back  to  you  again.  Mistress 
Catherine." 

*'  We  are  grateful." 

"  This  makes  twice  I've  saved  him  for  you," 
I  said,  '*  and  I've  brought  Chudleigh  back  to 
you  once.     I  want  to  say  that  if  you  have  any 


NOT   A   DROP   TO   DRINK. 


279 


other  relatives  and  friends  who  need  taking  care 
of,  will  you  kindly  send  for  me?  " 

'*  You  have  done  much  for  us,"  she  said. 
*'  There  is  no  denying  it." 

''  Perhpps  I  have,"  I  said  modestly.  ''When 
I  presented  Chudleigh  to  you,  you  called  me  a 
fool.  I  suppose  you  are  willing  now  to  take  it 
back." 

"  I  was  most  impolite,  I  know,  and  I'm 
sorry " 

'*  Oh,  you  take  it  back,  then?  " 

"  I'm  sorr>'  that  I  have  to  regret  the  ex- 
pression, for,  Dick,  that  is  what  you  are." 

There  was  the  faintest  suspicion  of  a  smile 
on  her  face,  and  I  could  not  become  quite  as 
angry  as  I  did  on  the  first  occasion.  But  she 
showed  no  inclination  to  take  the  harsh  word 
back,  and  perforce  I  left  very  much  dissatis- 
fied. 

When  I  returned  to  our  camp  I  found  much 
activity  prevailing.  It  seemed  to  be  the  in- 
tention of  our  leaders  to  close  in  and  seize  the 
prize  without  further  delay.  No  attack  was  to 
be  made  upon  Burgoyne's  camp,  but  the  circle 
of  fire  which  closed  him  in  became  broader 
and   pressed   tighter.     The   number   of  sharp- 


28o  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

shooters  was  doubled,  and  there  was  scarce  a 
point  in  the  circumference  of  Burgoyne's  camp 
which  they  could  not  reach  with  their  rifle  balls, 
while  the  British  could  not  attempt  repayment 
without  exposing  themselves  to  destruction. 
Yet  they  held  out,  and  vve  did  not  refuse  them 
praise  for  their  bravery  and  tenacity. 

The  morning  after  my  return  I  said  to 
Whitestone  that  I  gave  the  British  only  three 
days  longer.    Whitestone  shook  his  head. 

"  Maybe,"  he  said,  "  and  maybe  not  so  long. 
They've  been  cut  ofif  at  a  new  point." 

I  asked  him  what  he  meant. 

''  Why,  the  British  are  dying  of  thirst,"  he 
said.  "  They  are  in  plain  sight  of  the  Hudson — 
in  some  places  they  are  not  more  than  a  few 
yards  from  it — but  our  sharpshooters  have 
crept  up  till  they  can  sweep  all  the  space  be- 
tv  een  the  British  camp  and  the  river.  The 
British  can't  get  water  unless  they  cross  that 
strip  of  ground,  and  every  man  that's  tried  to 
cross  it  has  been  killed." 

I  shuddered.  I  could  not  help  it.  This  was 
war — war  of  the  kind  that  wins,  but  I  did  not 
like  it.  Yet,  despite  my  dislike,  I  was  to  take 
part  in'  it,  and  that  very  soon.     It  was  known 


NOT  A  DROP   TO  DRINK.  28 1 

that  I  was  expert  with  the  rifle,  and  I  was  or- 
dered to  choose  a  good  weapon  and  join  a  small 
detachment  that  lay  on  a  hill  commanding  the 
narrowest  bit  of  ground  between  the  British 
camp  and  the  river.  About  a  dozen  of  us  were 
there,  and  I  was  not  at  all  surprised  to  find 
Whitestone  among  the  number.  It  seemed 
that  if  I  went  anywhere  and  he  didn't  go  too, 
it  was  because  he  was  there  already. 

"  I  don't  like  this,  Whitestone.  I  don't 
like  it  a  bit,"  I  said  discontentedly. 

"  You  can  shoot  into  the  air,"  he  said,  "  and 
it  won't  be  any  harm.  There  are  plenty  of 
others  who  will  shoot  to  kill." 

I  could  see  that  Whitestone  was  right  about 
the  others.  Most  of  them  were  from  the 
mountains  of  Virginia  and  Pennsylvania,  back- 
woodsmen and  trained  Indian  fighters,  who 
thought  it  right  to  shoot  an  enemy  from  am- 
bush. In  truth  this  was  a  sort  of  business  they 
rather  enjoyed,  as  it  was  directly  in  their  line. 

As  I  held  some  official  rank  I  was  in  a  cer- 
tain sense  above  the  others,  though  I  was  not 
their  commander,  each  man  knowing  well  what 
he  was  about  and  doing  what  he  chose,  which 
was  \o  shoot  plump  at  the  first  human  being 


282  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

that  appeared  on  the  dead  Hne.  A  thin,  active 
Virginian  had  climbed  a  tree  in  order  to  get 
a  better  aim,  and  shot  with  deadly  effect  from 
its  boughs. 

I  sat  down  behind  a  clump  of  earth  and  ex- 
amined my  rifle. 

''  Look  across  there,"  said  Whitestone, 
pointing  to  the  open  space. 

I  did  so,  and  for  the  second  time  that  day 
I  shuddered.  Prone  upon  the  ground  were 
three  bodies  in  the  well-known  English  uni- 
form. A  pail  lay  beside  one  of  them.  I  knew 
without  the  telling  of  it  that  those  men  had 
fallen  in  their  attempt  to  reach  the  water  wdiich 
flowed  by — millions  and  millions  of  gallons — 
just  out  of  reach. 

*'  It's  rather  dull  now;  nobody's  tried  to  pass 
the  dead  line  for  an  hour,"  said  Bucks,  a  man 
from  the  mountains  of  western  Pennsylvania, 
with  a  face  of  copper  like  an  Indian's. 

''  bid  any  one  succeed  in  passing?  "  I  asked. 

''  Pass!  "  said  Bucks,  laughing.  "  What  do 
you  reckon  we're  here  for?  No  sirree!  The 
river  is  just  as  full  as  ever." 

There  was  an  unpleasant  ring  in  the  man's 
voice  which  gave  me  a  further  distaste  for  the 


NOT   A  DROP   TO   DRINK.  283 

work  in  hand.  Our  position  was  well  adapted 
to  our  task.  The  hill  was  broken  vvith  low 
outcroppings  of  stone  and  small  ridges.  So 
long  as  we  exercised  moderate  caution  we  could 
aim  and  shoot  in  comparative  safety.  Bucks 
spoke  my  thoughts  when  he  said: 

"  It's  just  Hke  shooting  deer  at  a  salt  lick." 

But  the  dullness  continued.  Those  red-clad 
bodies,  two  of  them  with  their  faces  upturned 
to  the  sun,  were  a  terrible  warning  to  the  others 
not  to  make  the  trial.  Two  of  our  men,  finding 
time  heavy,  produced  a  worn  pack  of  cards  and 
began  to  play  old  sledge,  their  rifles  lying  be- 
side them. 

The  waters  of  the  broad  river  glittered  in  the 
sun.  Now  and  then  a  fish  leaped  up  and  shot 
back  like  a  flash,  leaving  the  bubbles  to  tell 
where  he  had  gone.  The  spatter  of  musketry 
around  the  circle  of  the  British  camp  had  be- 
come so  much  a  habit  that  one  noticed  it  only 
when  it  ceased  for  the  time.  The  white  rings 
of  smoke  from  the  burnt  powder  floated  away, 
peaceful  little  clouds,  and,  like  patches  of  snow 
against  the  blue  sky,  helped  out  the  beauty 
of  an  early  autumn  day. 

All  of  us  were  silent  except  the  two  men 
19 


284  '^^^^  ^^^   ^^  SARATOGA. 

playing  cards.  I  half  closed  my  eyes,  for  the  sun 
was  bright  and  the  air  was  warm,  and  gave  my- 
self up  to  lazy,  vague  thought.  I  was  very 
glad  that  we  had  nothing  to  do,  and  even  should 
the  time  to  act  come,  I  resolved  that  I  would 
follow  Whitestone's  hint. 

The  two  men  playing  cards  became  ab- 
sorbed in  the  game.  One  threw  down  a  card 
and  uttered  a  cry  of  triumph. 

"  Caught  your  Jack!  " 

"All  right,"  said  the  other;  "it's  only  two 
for  you,  your  low.  Jack  against  my  high,  game. 
I'm  even  with  you." 

I  became  interested.  I  was  lying  on  my 
back  with  my  head  on  a  soft  bunch  of  turf.  I 
raised  up  a  little  that  I  might  see  these  players, 
who  could  forget  such  a  business  as  theirs  in 
a  game  of  cards.  Their  faces  were  sharp  and 
eager,  and  when  they  picked  up  the  cards  I 
could  tell  by  their  expression  whether  they 
were  good  or  bad. 

"  Four  and  four,"  said  one,  "  and  this  hand 
settles  the  business.    Five's  the  game." 

The  other  began  to  deal  the  cards,  but  a 
rifle  was  fired  so  close  to  my  ear  that  the  sound 
was  that  of  a  cannon.     The  echo  ceasing,  I 


NOT   A  DROP  TO   DRINK.  28$ 

heard  Bucks  and  the  man  in  the  tree  swearing 
profusely  at  each  other. 

''  He's  mine,  I  tell  you!  "  said  Bucks. 

"  It  was  my  bullet  that  did  it !  "  said  the 
man  in  the  tree  with  equal  emphasis. 

"  I  guess  it  was  both  of  you,"  put  in  White- 
stone.  ''  You  fired  so  close  together  I  heard 
only  one  shot,  but  I  reckon  both  bullets 
counted." 

This  seemed  to  pacify  them.  I  looked  over 
the  little  ridge  of  earth  before  us,  and  saw  a 
fourth  red-clad  body  lying  on  the  greensward 
near  the  river.    It  was  as  still  as  the  others. 

"  He  made  a  dash  for  the  water,"  said  White- 
stone,  who  caught  my  eye,  "  but  the  lead  over- 
took him  before  he  was  halfway." 

The  two  men  put  aside  their  cards,  busi- 
ness being  resumed;  but  after  this  attempt 
we  lay  idle  a  long  time.  Bucks,  who  had  an  in- 
fernal zeal,  never  took  his  eyes  ofT  the  green- 
sward save  to  look  at  the  priming  of  his  gun. 

"  I  could  hit  the  mark  at  least  twenty  yards 
farther  than  that,"  he  said  to  me  confidently. 

Noon  came,  and  I  hoped  I  would  be  relieved 
of  this  duty,  but  it  was  not  so.  It  seemed  that 
it  would  be  an  all-day  task.      The  men  took 


286  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

some  bread  and  cold  meat  from  their  pouches 
and  we  ate.  When  the  last  crumb  fell,  a  man 
appeared  at  the  edge  of  the  greensward  and 
held  up  his  hands.  Bucks's  finger  was  already 
on  the  trigger  of  his  gun,  but  I  made  him  stop. 
The  man's  gesture  meant  something,  and,  m^ore- 
over,  I  saw  that  he  was  unarmed.  I  called  also 
to  the  Virginian  in  the  tree  to  hold  his  fire. 

I  thought  I  knew  the  meaning  of  the  panto- 
mime. I  took  my  rifle  and  turned  the  muzzle 
of  it  to  the  earth  so  conspicuously  that  the 
Englishman,  who  was  holding  up  his  hands, 
could  not  fail  to  see.  When  he  saw,  he  ad- 
vanced boldly,  and  laying  hold  of  one  of  the 
bodies  dragged  it  away.  He  returned  for  a 
second,  and  a  third,  and  then  a  fourth,  and 
when  he  had  taken  the  last  he  did  not  come 
back  again. 

"  That's  a  good  job  well  done!  "  I  said  with 
much  relief  when  the  last  of  the  fallen  men  had 
been  taken  away.  It  was  much  pleasanter  to 
look  at  the  greensward  now,  since  there  was 
no  red  spot  upon  it.  I  said  to  Whitestone 
that  I  thought  the  English  would  not  make 
the  trial  again. 

'*  They  will,"  he  replied.    "  They  must  have 


NOT  A   DROP   TO   DRINK. 


287 


water,  and  maybe  they  don't  know  even  yet 
what  kind  of  riflemen  we  have." 

Whitestone  was  right.  In  a  half  hour  a 
man  appeared  protecting  his  body  with  a  heavy 
board  as  long  as  himself.  He  moved  with  slow- 
ness an.'  iwkwardness,  but  two  or  three  bullets 
fired  into  the  board  seemed  to  make  no  im- 
pression. 

"  At  any  rate,  if  he  reaches  the  river  and 
gets  back  all  right  it's  too  slow  a  way  to  slake 
the  thirst  of  m.any,"  said  Whitestone  in  the  tone 
of  a  philosopher. 

Bucks's  face  puffed  out  with  anger. 

"They  mustn't  get  a  drop!"  he  said  with 
the  freedom  of  a  backwoodsman.  "  We're  to 
keep  'em  from  it;  that's  what  we're  here  for." 

The  man  looked  fierce  in  his  wrath  and  I 
did  not  reprove  him,  for  after  all  he  was  right, 
though  not  very  polite. 

The  man  in  the  tree  fired,  and  a  tiny  patch 
of  red  cloth  flew  into  the  air.  The  bullet  had 
cut  his  clothes,  but  it  could  not  reach  the  man, 
who  continued  to  shamble  behind  his  board  to- 
ward the  river. 

"  I'm  afraid  we  won't  be  able  to  stop  him," 
I  said  to  Bucks. 


288  THE   SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 

Bucks  had  crawled  to  the  edge  of  the  hill 
and  was  watching  with  the  ferocity  and  rancor 
of  a  savage  for  a  chance  to  shoot.  Often 
I  think  that  these  men  who  live  out  in  the 
forests  among  the  savages  learn  to  share  their 
nature. 

I  could  not  see  because  of  the  board,  but  I 
guessed  that  the  man  carried  a  bucket,  or  pail, 
in  one  hand.  In  truth  I  was  right,  for  present- 
ly a  corner  of  the  pail  appeared,  and  it  was 
struck  instantly  by  a  bullet  from  the  rifle  of  the 
man  in  the  tree. 

"  At  any  rate,  w^e've  sprung  a  leak  in  his  pail 
for  him,"  said  Whitestone. 

I  began  to  take  much  interest  in  the  matter. 
Not  intending  it,  I  felt  like  a  hunter  in  pursuit 
of  a  wary  animal.  My  scruples  were  forgotten 
for  the  moment.  I  found  myself  sighting  along 
the  barrel  of  my  rifle  seeking  a  shot.  The  Eng- 
lishman had  ceased  for  me  to  be  a  human  being 
like  myself.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  red-coat 
sleeve  at  the  edge  of  the  board  and  would  have 
fired,  but  as  my  finger  touched  the  trigger  it 
disappeared  and  I  held  back.  Whitestone  was 
at  my  shoulder,  the  same  eagerness  showing  on 
his  face.     The  man  in  the  tree  had  squirmed 


NOT  A   DROP  TO   DRINK.  289 

like  a  snake  far  out  on  the  bough,  and  was  seek- 
ing for  a  shot  over  the  top  of  the  board. 

The  EngHshman  trailed  himself  and  his  pro- 
tecting board  along,  and  was  within  a  yard  of 
the  water.  Over  the  earthwork  at  the  edge 
of  the  British  camp  the  men  were  watching 
him.  His  friends  were  as  eager  for  his  success 
as  we  were  to  slay  him.  It  was  a  rivalry  that 
incited  in  us  a  stronger  desire  to  reach  him  with 
the  lead.  In  such  a  competition  a  man's  life 
becomes  a  very  small  pawn.  For  us  the  Eng- 
lishmen had  become  a  target,  and  nothing  more. 

Bucks  was  the  most  eager  of  us.  He  showed 
his  teeth  like  a  wolf. 

The  Englishman  reached  the  water  and 
stooped  over  to  fill  his  pail.  Bending,  he  for- 
got himself  and  thrust  his  head  beyond  the 
board.  With  a  quickness  that  I  have  never 
seen  surpassed,  Bucks  threw  up  his  rifle  and 
fired.  The  Englishman  fell  into  the  water  as 
dead  as  a  stone,  and,  his  board  and  his  pail  fall- 
ing too,  floated  off  down  the  stream. 

I  uttered  a  cry  of  triumph,  and  then  clapped 
my  hand  in  shame  over  my  mouth.  The  water 
pulling  at  the  Englishman's  body  took  it  out 
into  the  deeper  stream,  and  it  too  floated  away. 


290 


THE  SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


The  zest  of  the  chase  was  gone  for  me  m  an  in- 
stant, and  I  felt  only  a  kind  of  pitying  horror. 
Never  before  in  my  life  had  I  been  assigned 
to  work  so  hateful. 

Bucks  crawled  back  all  a-grin.  I  turned  my 
back  to  him  while  he  received  the  praise  of  the 
man  in  the  tree.  It  was  evident  to  me  that 
nobody  could  cross  the  dead  line  in  the  face  of 
such  sharpshooters,  and  I  hoped  the  British  saw 
the  fact  as  well  as  w^e. 

Our  enemies  must  have  been  very  hard 
pressed,  for  after  a  while  another  man  tried 
the  risk  of  the  greensward.  He  came  out  only 
a  few  feet,  and  when  a  bullet  clipped  right  under 
his  feet  he  turned  and  fled  back,  which  drew 
some  words  of  scorn  from  Bucks,  but  which 
seemed  to  me  to  be  a  very  wise  and  timely 
act. 

I  thought  that  this  would  be  the  last  trial, 
but  Whitestone  again  disagreed  with  me. 

"  When  men  are  burning  up  with  thirst  and 
see  a  river  full  of  water  running  by,  they'll  try 
mighty  hard  to  get  to  that  river,"  he  said. 

The  sergeant's  logic  looked  good,  but  for 
a  full  hour  it  failed.  I  felt  sleepy,  again,  but 
was  aroused  by  the  man  in  the  tree  dropping 


NOT   A   DROP   TO   DRINK. 


291 


some  twigs,  one  of  which  struck  me  in  the 
face. 

"  They're  going  to  try  it  again,"  he  said. 

As  I  have  remarked,  we  could  see  a  small 
earthwork  which .  the  British  had  thrown  up, 
and  whoever  tried  to  pass  the  dead  line  would 
be  sure  to  come  from  that  point.  The  man 
in  the  tree  had  a  better  view  than  we,  and  I 
guessed  that  he  saw  heads  coming  over  the 
earthwork. 

Among  our  men  was  a  slight  bustle  that 
told  of  preparation,  a  last  look  at  the  flints,  a 
shoving  forward  for  a  better  position.  I  looked 
at  my  own  rifle,  but  I  resolved  that  I  would 
not  allow  zeal  to  overcome  me  again.  I  would 
remember  Whitestone's  suggestion  and  fire 
into  the  air,  leaving  the  real  work  to  Bucks  and 
the  others,  who  would  be  glad  enough  to  do 
it.  I  saw  the  flutter  of  a  garment  at  the  earth- 
work and  some  one  came  over.  The  man  on 
the  bough  above  me  uttered  a  cry,  to  which  I 
gave  the  echo.  All  the  blood  in  me  seemed 
to  rush  to  my  head. 

Kate  Van  Auken,  carrying  a  large  bucket 
in  her  hand,  stepped  upon  the  greensward  and 
walked  very  calmly  toward  the  river,  not  once 


292 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


turning  her  eyes  toward  the  hill  where  she 
knew  the  sharpshooters  lay.  Behind  her  came 
a  strapping,  bare-armed  Englishwoman,  who 
looked  like  a  corporal's  wife,  and  then  four  more 
women,  carrying  buckets  or  pails. 

Bucks  raised  his  rifle  and  began  to  take  aim. 
I  sprang  up  and  dashed  his  ritle  aside.  I  am 
afraid  I  swore  at  him  too.    1  hope  I  did. 

"  What  are  you  about,  Bucks? "  I  cried. 
"  Would  you  shoot  a  woman?  " 

"  Mr.  Shelby,"  he  replied  very  coolly, 
"  we're  put  here  to  keep  the  British  from  that 
water,  man  or  w^oman.  What's  a  woman's  life 
to  the  fate  of  a  whole  army?  You  may  outrank 
me,  but  you  don't  command  me  in  this  case, 
and  I'm  going  to  shoot." 

I  stooped  down  and  with  a  sudden  move- 
ment snatched  the  gun  from  his  grasp. 

"  Don't  mind  it,  Bucks,"  said  the  man  in 
the  tree;  "  I'll  shoot." 

'*If  you  do,"  I  cried,  "I'll  put  a  bullet 
through  you  the  next  moment." 

"  And  if  you  should  chance  to  miss,"  said 
Whitestone,  coming  up  beside  me,  "  I've  a  bul- 
let in  my  gun  for  the  same  man." 

The  man  in  the  tree  was  no  martyr,  nor 


NOT  A  DROP  TO   DRINK. 


293 


wanting  to  be,  and  he  cried  out  to  us  that  he 
would  not  shoot.  In  proof  of  it  he  took  his  gun- 
stock  from  his  shoulder.  The  other  men  did 
nothing,  waiting  upon  my  movements. 

"  Bucks,"  I  said,  ''  if  I  give  you  your  gun,  do 
you  promise  not  to  shoot  at  those  women?  " 

'*  Do  you  take  all  the  responsibiUty?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Give  me  my  gun.    I  won't  use  it." 

I  handed  him  his  rifle,  which  he  took  in  si- 
lence. I  don't  think  Bucks  was  a  bad  man, 
merely  one  borne  along  by  an  excess  of  zeal. 
He  has  thanked  me  since  for  restraining  him. 
The  women,  Kate  still  leading  them,  filled  their 
buckets  and  pails  at  the  river  and  walked  back 
to  the  camp  with  the  same  calm  and  even  step. 
Again  and  again  was  this  repeated,  and  many 
a  fever-burnt  throat  in  the  besieged  camp  must 
have  been  grateful.  I  felt  a  glow  when  I  sent  a 
messenger  to  our  colonel  with  word  of  what 
I  had  done  and  he  returned  with  a  full  indorse- 
ment. How  could  our  officers  have  done  other- 
wise? 

I  was  sorry  I  could  not  get  a  better  view  of 
Kate  Van  Auken's  face.  But  she  never  turned 
it  our  way.     Apparently  she  was  ignorant  of 


294  THE  SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

our  existence,  though,  of  course,  it  was  but  a 
pretense,  and  she  knew  that  a  dozen  of  the  best 
marksmen  in  America  lay  on  the  hill  within 
easy  range  of  her  comrades  and  herself. 

"  There's  but  one  thing  more  for  you  to  do, 
Mr.  Shelby,"  whispered  Whitestone. 

"What's  that?" 

"  Save  the  Hfe  of  madame,  her  mother. 
She's  the  only  one  yet  unsaved  by  you." 

"  I  will,  Whitestone,"  I  replied,  "  if  I  get 
the  chance." 

After  a  while,  though  late,  the  women 
ceased  to  come  for  the  water.  Presently  the 
sun  went  down  and  that  day's  work  was  done. 

My  belief  that  Chudleigh  was  a  very  for- 
tunate man  was  deepening. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   iMESSENGER. 

I  rose  early  the  next  morning,  and  my  first 
wish  was  for  duties  other  than  keeping-  the 
enemy  away  from  the  water.  I  found  Wliite- 
stone  sitting  on  his  camp  blanket  and  smoking 
his  pipe  with  an  expression  of  deep-seated  con- 
tent. 

"  What  are  we  to  do  to-day?  "  I  asked  him, 
for  Whitestone  usually  knew  everything. 

"  I  haven't  heard  of  anything,"  he  replied. 
"  Maybe  we'll  rest.     We  deserve  it,  you  and  I." 

Whitestone  has  some  egotism,  though  I -do 
not  undertake  to  criticise  him  for  it. 

It  seemed  that  he  was  right,  for  we  were 
like  two  men  forgotten,  which  is  a  pleasant 
thing  sometimes  in  the  military  life.  Finding 
that  we  had  nothing  else  to  do,  we  walked  to- 
ward the  British  camp,  which,  as  a  matte/  of 

course,  was  the  great  object  of  curiosity  for  all 

295 


296  THE  SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

of  US,  and  sat  down  just  within  the  line  of  our 
sharpshooters.  The  zeal  and  activity  of  these 
gentlemen  had  relaxed  in  no  particular,  and 
the  crackle  of  their  rifles  was  a  most  familiar 
sound  in  our  ears. 

We  had  a  good  position  and  could  note  the 
distressed  look  of  the  British  camp.  The  bag- 
gage wagons  were  drawn  up  with  small  refer- 
ence to  convenience  and  more  to  defense.  The 
house,  the  cellar  of  which  I  knew  to  be  in- 
habited by  women,  children,  and  severely 
wounded  men,  was  so  torn  by  cannon  balls  that 
the  wind  had  a  fair  sweep  through  it  in  many 
places.  Some^  of  the  soldiers  walking  about 
seemed  to  us  at  the  distance  to  be  drooping 
and  dejected.  Yet  they  made  resistance,  and 
their  skirmishers  were  replying  to  ours,  though 
but  feebly. 

While  I  was  watching  the  house  I  saw  three 
or  four  ofificers  in  very  brilliant  uniforms  come 
out.  After  a  few  steps  they  stopped  and  stood 
talking  together  wath  what  seemed  to  be  great 
earnestness.  These  men  were  generals,  I  was 
sure;  their  uniforms  indicated  it,  and  I  guessed 
they  had  been  holding  conference.  It  must  be 
a  matter  of  importance  or  they  would  not  stop 


THE   MESSENGER. 


297 


on  their  way  from  it  to  talk  again.  I  directed 
W'hitestone's  attention,  but  he  was  looking  al- 
ready. 

"  Something's  up,"  I  said.  "  Maybe  they  are 
planning  an  attack  upon  us." 

''  Not  likely,"  he  replied.  "  It  may  be  some- 
thing altogether  different." 

I  knew  what  was  running  through  his  mind, 
and  I  more  than  half  agreed  with  him. 

The  generals  passed  into  a  large  tent,  which 
must  have  been  that  of  Burgoyne  himself;  but 
in  a  minute  or  two  an  officer  came  and  took 
his  way  toward  our  camp.  He  was  a  tall,  fine 
fellow,  rather  young,  and  bore  himself  with 
much  dignity.  Of  a  certainty  he  had  on  his 
finest  uniform,  for  he  was  dressed  as  if  for  the 
eye  of  woman.  His  epaulets  and  his  buttons 
flashed  back  the  sun's  rays,  and  his  coat  was  a 
blaze  of  scarlet. 

The  officer  drew  the  attention  of  other  eyes 
than  Whitestone's  and  mine.  In  the  British 
camp  they  seemed  to  know  what  he  was  about, 
or  guessed  it.  I  could  see  the  people  drawing 
together  in  groups  and  looking  at  him,  and 
then  speaking  to  each  other,  which  always  in- 
dicates great  interest.      An  officer  with  gray 


298 


THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 


hair  whom   he   passed   looked   after  him,   and 
then  covered  his  face  with  liis  hands. 

The  ofificer  came  on  with  a  steady  and  regu- 
lar step  to  the  earthwork,  where  he  paused  for  • 
a  moment. 

'*  It  may  be,"  said  Whitestone,  ''  that  you 
and  I  were  the  first  to  see  the  beginning  of  a 
great  event." 

The  officer  stepped  upon  the  earthwork, 
raising  a  piece  of  white  cloth  in  his  hand.  The 
fire  of  the  sharpshooters  ceased  with  such  sud- 
denness that  my  ear,  accustomed  to  the  sound, 
was  startled  at  the  lack  of  it. 

''  I  think  you've  guessed  right,"  I  said  to 
Whitestone. 

He  made  no  reply,  but  drew  a  deep  breath 
at  his  pipe  stem,  and  then  let  the  smoke  escape 
in  a  long  white  curl. 

Some  of  the  sharpshooters  stepped  from 
covert  and  looked  curiously  at  the  approaching 
officer. 

''  Whitestone,"  I  said,  "  since  there  is  no 
committee  of  reception,  let  us  make  ourselves 


one." 


He  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  fol- 
lowed  me.    The   murmur   of   the   camps,   the 


THE    MESSENGER.  299 

sound  made  by  the  voices  of  many  men,  in- 
creased. The  officer  came  rapidly.  Whitestone 
and  I  walked  very  slowly.  He  saw  us,  and,  not- 
ing my  subaltern's  uniform,  took  me  for  one 
dispatched  to  meet  him. 

When  he  came  very  near  I  saw  that  his  face 
was  frozen  into  the  haughty  expression  of  a 
man  who  wishes  to  conceal  mortification.  He 
said  at  once  that  he  wished  to  see  our  com- 
mander in  chief,  and  without  question  White- 
stone  and  I  took  him  to  our  colonel,  who 
formed  his  escort  to  the  tent  of  our  commander 
in  chief.  Then  we  returned  to  our  former  place 
near  the  outposts. 

"  How  long  do  you  think  it  will  take  to  ar- 
range it?  "  I  asked  W^hitestone. 

"  A  day  or  two,  at  least,"  he  said.  ''The 
British  will  talk  with  as  long  a  tongue  as  they 
can,  hoping  that  Clinton  may  come  yet,  and, 
even  if  he  don't,  there  will  be  many  things  to 
settle." 

Whitestone  was  right,  as  he  so  often  was. 
The  generals  soon  met  to  talk,  and  we  subal- 
terns and  soldiers  relaxed.  The  rifles  were  put 
to  rest,  and  I  learned  how  little  we  hate  our 

enemies  sometimes.     I  saw  one  of  our  senti- 
20 


300  THE   SUN  OF   SARATOGA, 

nels  giving  tobacco  to  a  British  sentinel,  and 
they  were  swapping  news  over  a  log.  Some 
officers  sent  in  medicines  for  the  wounded.  No 
longer  having  fear  of  bullets,  I  walked  up  to 
the  British  outworks  and  looked  over  them  into 
the  camp.  A  Hessian  sentinel  shook  his  gun 
at  me  and  growled  something  in  his  throaty 
tongue.  I  laughed  at  him,  and  he  put  his  gun 
back  on  his  shoulder.  I  strolled  on,  and  some 
one  hailed  me  with  a  familiar  voice.  It  was  Al- 
bert Van  Auken. 

"  Hello,  Dick!  "  said  he.  "  Have  you  folks 
surrendered  yet?  How  long  are  these  pre- 
liminaries to  last?  " 

He  was  looking  quite  fresh  and  gay,  and,  if 
the  truth  be  told,  I  was  glad  to  see  him. 

"  No,"  I  replied,  "  we  have  not  surrendered 
yet,  and  we  may  change  our  minds  about  it." 

"  That  would  be  too  bad,"  he  replied,  "  after 
all  our  trouble — after  defeating  you  in  battle, 
and  then  hemming  you  in  so  thoroughly  as  we 
have  done." 

"  So  it  would,"  I  said.  "  Sit  down  and  talk 
seriously.    Are  your  mother  and  sister  well?  " 

"  Well  enough,"  he  replied,  "  though  badly 
frightened  by  your  impertinent  cannon  balls.' 


>» 


THE   MESSENGER. 


301 


He  sat  down  on  a  mound  of  earth  thrown 
up  by  British  spades,  and  I  came  quite  close  to 
him.     Nobody  paid  any  attention  to  us. 

''  How  goes  it  with  Captain  Chudleigh?  "  I 
asked. 

"Poor  Chudleigh!"  said  Albert.  "He's 
lying  in  the  cellar  over  there,  with  a  ball  through 
his  shoulder  sent  by  one  of  your  infernal  sharp- 
shooters." 

"Is  it  bad?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  very,"  he  replied.  "  He  may  live, 
or  he  may  die.    Kate's  nursing  him." 

Well,  at  any  rate,  I  thought,  Chudleigh  is 
fortunate  in  his  nurse;  there  would  have  been 
no  such  luck  for  me.  But  I  kept  the  thought 
to  myself. 

"  Albert,"  I^asked,  "  what  did  your  officers 
say  to  you  when  I  brought  you  back?  " 

"  Dick,"  he  replied,  "  let's  take  an  oath  of 
secrecy  on  that  point  even  from  each  other." 

For  his  part  he  kept  the  oath. 

I  could  not  withhold  one  more  gibe. 

"  Albert,"  I  asked,  "  w-hat  do  you  Tories  say 
now  to  the  capture  of  an  entire  British  army 
by  us  ragged  Continentals?  " 

He  flushed  very  red. 


302 


THE  SUN  OF   SARATOGA. 


"  You  haven't  done  it,"  he  replied.  "  Clin- 
ton will  come  yet." 

We  talked  a  little  further,  and  then  he  went 
back  into  his  camp. 

The  talk  of  the  generals  lasted  all  that  day 
and  the  next,  and  was  still  of  spirit  and  endur- 
ance on  the  third.  We  soldiers  and  subalterns, 
having  httle  to  do,  cultivated  the  acquaintance 
of  the  enemy  whom  we  had  fought  so  long. 
Some  very  Uvely  conversations  were  carried  on 
across  the  earthworks,  though,  of  course,  we 
never  went  into  their  '-amp,  nor  did  they  come 
into  ours. 

On  the  third  day,  when  I  turned  away  after 
exchanging  some  civilities  with  a  very  courte- 
ous Englishman,  I  met  a  common-looking  man 
whose  uniform  was  a  Continental  coat,  dis- 
tressingly ragged  and  faded,  the  remainder  of 
his  costume  being  of  gray  homespun.  He 
nodded  as  he  passed  me,  and  strolled  very 
close  to  the  British  lines.  In  fact,  he  went 
so  close  that  he  seemed  to  me  to  intend 
going  in.  Thinking  he  was  an  ignorant  fel 
low  who  might  get  into  trouble  by  such  an 
act,  I  hailed  him  and  demanded  where  he  was 
going. 


THE   MESSENGER. 


303 


He  came  back,  and  laughed  in  a  sheepish 
way. 

''  I  thought  it  was  no  harm,"  he  said. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  meant  none,"  I  said, 
"  but  you  must  not  go  into  their  camp." 

He  bowed  very  humbly  and  walked  away. 
His  submission  so  ready  and  easy  attracted  my 
notice,  for  our  soldiers  were  of  a  somewhat  in- 
dependent character.  I  watched  him,  and  no- 
ticed that  he  walked  in  the  swift,  direct  man- 
ner of  a  man  who  knows  exactly  where  he  is 
going.  Being  a  bit  curious,  and  having  noth- 
ing else  in  particular  to  do,  I  followed  him  at  a 
convenient  distance. 

He  moved  three  or  four  hundred  yards 
around  the  circle  of  our  camp  until  he  came 
to  a  place  beyond  sight  of  that  at  which  I  had 
stood  when  I  hailed  him.  The  same  freedom 
and  ease  of  communication  between  the  two 
armies  prevailed  there. 

M^^  man  sauntered  up  in  the  most  careless 
way,  looking  about  him  in  the  inquisitive  fash- 
ion of  a  rustic  soldier;  but  I  noted  that  his 
general  course,  however  much  it  zigzagged, 
was  toward  the  British.  I  came  up  much  closer. 
He  was  within  a  yard  of  the  British  lines  and 


304 


THE   SUN  OF   SARATOGA. 


our  men  were  giving  him  no  heed.  I  felt  sure 
that  in  a  few  moments  more,  if  no  one  inter- 
fered, he  would  be  in  the  British  camp.  I 
stepped  forward  and  called  to  him. 

He  started  in  a  manner  that  indicated  alarm, 
and,  of  course,  recognized  my  face,  which  he 
had  seen  scarce  two  minutes  before.  I  asked 
him  very  roughly  why  he  was  trying  so  hard 
to  steal  into  the  British  camp. 

*'  It's  true,"  he  said,  "  I  was  trying  to  go  in 
there,  but  I  have  a  good  excuse." 

1  demanded  his  excuse. 

*'  I  have  a  brother  in  there,  a  Tory,"  he  said, 
"  and  I've  heard  that  he's  wounded.  Every- 
body says  Burgoyne  will  surrender  in  a  few 
hours,  and  I  thought  it  no  harm  to  go  in  and 
see  my  brother." 

What  he  said  seemed  reasonable.  I  could 
readily  understand  his  anxiety  on  his  brother's 
account.  He  spoke  with  such  an  air  of  sincerity 
that  I  had  no  heart  to  scold  him;  so  I  told 
him  not  to  make  the  attempt  again,  and  if  the 
tale  that  Burgoyne  was  to  surrender  in  a  few 
hours  was  true,  he  would  not  have  long  to  wait. 

Yet  I  had  a  small  suspicion  left,  and  I  de- 
cided to  humor  it.    If  there  was  anything  wrong 


THE    MESSENGER. 


305 


about  the  man  he  would  watch  me,  I  knew,  after 
two  such  encounters.  I  wandered  back  into 
our  camp  as  if  I  had  nothing  on  my  mind, 
though  I  did  not  lose  sight  of  him.  Among 
crowds  of  soldiers  there  I  had  the  advantage 
of  him,  for  I  could  see  him  and  he  could  not 
see  me. 

He  idled  about  a  while,  and  then  began  to 
move  around  the  circle  of  our  camp  inclosing 
the  British  camp.  I  was  glad  that  I  had  con- 
tinued to  watch  him.  Either  this  man  was 
overwhelmingly  anxious  about  his  brother,  or 
he  had  mischief  in  mind.  I  followed  him,  tak- 
ing care  that  he  should  not  see  me.  Thus  en- 
gaged, I  met  Whitestone,  who  told  me  some- 
thing, though  I  did  not  stop  to  hold  converse 
with  him  about  it,  not  wishing  to  lose  my  man. 

The  fellow  made  a  much  wider  circle  than 
before,  and  frequently  looked  behind  him;  but 
he  stopped  at  last  and  began  to  approach  the 
British  line.  There  was  nobody,  at  least  from 
our  army,  within  thirty  or  forty  yards  of  him 
except  myself,  and  by  good  luck  I  was  able  to 
find  some  inequalities  of  the  ground  which  con- 
cealed me. 

A  British  sentinel  was  standing  in  a  lazy 


3o6  1HE    SUN   OF  SARATOGA. 

attitude,  and  my  man  approached  and  hailed 
him  in  a  friendly  manner.  The  Englishman  re- 
plied m  the  same  tone. 

'*  Can  I  go  in  there?  "  asked  the  man,  point- 
ing to  the  British  camp. 

"  You  can  go  in,"  replied  the  sentinel  with 
some  humor,  "  but  you  can't  come  out  again." 

"  I  don't  want  to  come  out  again,"  replied 
the  man. 

'*  You  chose  a  curious  time  to  desert,"  said 
the  sentinel  with  a  sneer,  "  but  it's  none  of  my 
business." 

The  man  was  about  to  enter,  but  I  stepped 
forward  quickly,  drawing  my  pistol  as  I  did  so. 
He  saw  me  and  raised  his  hand,  as  if  he  too 
would  draw  a  weapon,  but  I  had  him  under 
the  muzzle  of  my  pistol  and  threatened  to 
shoot  him  if  he  made  resistance.  There- 
upon he  played  the  part  of  wisdom  and  was 
quiet. 

"  I  will  take  care  of  this  deserter,"  I  said  to 
the  English  sentinel. 

"  I  told  him  it  was  none  of  my  business,  and 
I  tell  you  the  same,"  the  sentinel  said,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders.  "  We're  not  fighting  now. 
Only  don't  shoot  the  poor  devil." 


THE    MESSENGER. 


307 


"  March!  "  I  said  to  the  man,  still  covering 
him  with  my  pistol, 

*'  Where?  "  he  asked. 

*'  To  the  little  clump  of  woods  yonder,"  I 
said.    *'  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

The  fellow  had  hard,  strong  features,  and 
his  countenance  did  not  fall. 

He  wheeled  aljout  and  marched  toward  the 
wood.  I  followed  close  behind,  the  pistol  in 
my  hand.  I  had  chosen  my  course  with  my 
eyes  open.  Our  people  were  not  near,  and  wc 
reached  the  trees  without  interruption  or  no- 
tice.   In  their  shelter  the  man  turned  about. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  w^ant?  "  he  asked  in 
sullen,  obstinate  tones. 

''Your  papers,"  I  said;  ''the  message  you 
were  trying  to  carry  into  the  British  camp." 

"  I  have  no  papers;  I  was  not  trying  to 
carry  anything  into  the  British  camp,"  he  re- 
plied, edging  a  Uttle  closer. 

"  Keep  off!  "  I  said,  foreseeing  his  intent. 
*'  If  you  come  an  inch  nearer  I  will  put  a  pistol 
ball  through  you.    Stand  farther  awi.y!  " 

He  stepped  back. 

"  Now  give  me  that  letter,  or  whatever  you 
have,"  I  said.     ''  It  is  useless  to  deny  that  you 


3o8  THE   SUN  OF   SARATOGA. 

have  something.  If  you  don't  give  it  to  me, 
1  will  take  you  into  the  camp  and  have  you 
stripped  and  searched  by  the  soldiers.  It  will 
be  better  for  you  to  do  as  I  say." 

Evidently  he  believed  me,  for  he  thrust  his 
hand  inside  his  waistcoat  and  pulled  out  a 
crumpled  letter,  which  he  handed  to  me.  Keep- 
ing one  eye  on  him  I  read  the  letter  with  the 
other  eye,  and  found  I  had  not  been  deceived 
in  my  guess.  It  was  from  Sir  Henry  Clinton 
to  Sir  John  Burgoyne,  telling  him  to  hold  out 
for  certain  rescue.  Sir  Henry  said  he  was  within 
a  short  distance  of  Albany  with  a  strong  force, 
and  expected  to  join  Sir  John  soon  and  help 
him  crush  all  the  rebel  forces. 

''  This  is  important,"  I  said. 

''  Very,"  said  the  man. 

"  It  might  have  changed  the  fate  of  the  cam- 
paign had  you  reached  General  Burgoyne  with 
it,"  I  said. 

"  Undoubtedly  it  would  have  done  so,"  he 
replied. 

*'  Well,  it  wouldn't." 

"  That  is  a  matter  of  opinion." 

"  Not  at  all." 

"  I  don't  understand  you." 


THE    MESSENGER. 


309 


"  The  campaign  is  ended.  Burgoyne  sur- 
rendered a  half  hour  ago." 

Which  was  true,  for  Whitestone,  with  his 
skill  in  finding  out  things  before  other  people, 
had  told  me. 

''I'm  very  sorry,"  said  the  man  in  tones  of 
sharp  disappointment. 

"  I'm  not,"  I  said. 

''  What  do  you  mean  to  have  done  with 
me?  "  he  asked — "  hanging,  or  shooting?  " 

I  did  not  admire  the  man,  but  I  respected 
his  courage. 

''  Neither,"  I  replied.  "  You  can't  do  any 
harm  now.     Be  off!  " 

He  looked  surprised,  but  he  thanked  me 
and  walked  away. 

It  was  unmilitary,  but  it  has  always  been 
approved  by  my  conscience,  for  which  I  alone 
am  responsible. 


4« 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

CAPITULATIONS. 

T  stood  with  Whitestone  and  saw  the  British 
lay  down  their  arms,  and,  of  all  the  things  I  saw 
on  that  great  day,  an  English  officer  with  the 
tears  dropping  down  his  face  impressed  me 
most. 

We  were  not  allowed  to  exult  over  our  ene- 
mies, nor  did  we  wnsh  it;  but  I  will  not  deny 
that  we  felt  a  great  and  exhilarating  triumph. 
Before  the  war  these  Englishmen  had  denied 
to  us  the  possession  of  courage  and  endurance 
as  great  as  theirs.  They  had  called  us  the  de- 
generate descendants  of  Englishmen,  and  one  of 
their  own  generals,  who  had  served  w^ith  us  in 
the  great  French  and  Indian  war,  and  who 
should  have  known  better,  had  boasted  that  with 
five  thousand  men  he  could  march  from  one 
end  of  the  colonies  to  the  other.     Now,  more 

than  five  thousand  of  their  picked  men  were 

3ZO 


CAPITULATIONS. 


311 


laying  down  their  arms  to  us.  and  as  many  more 
had  fallen,  or  been  taken  on  their  way  from 
Canada  to  Saratoga. 

I  repeat  that  all  these  things — the  taunts 
and  revilings  of  the  English,  who  should  have 
been  the  last  to  cheapen  us — had  caused  much 
bitterness  in  our  hearts,  and  I  assert  again  that 
our  exultation,  repressed  though  it  was,  had 
full  warrant.  Even  now  I  feel  this  bitterness 
sometimes,  though  I  try  to  restrain  it,  for  the 
great  English  race  is  still  the  great  English 
race,  chastened  and  better  than  it  was  then,  I 
hope  and  believe. 

Remembering  all  these  things,  I  say  that  we 
behaved  well  on  that  day,  and  our  enemies,  so 
long  as  they  told  the  truth,  could  find  no  fault 
with  us. 

There  was  a  broad  meadow  down  by  the  river- 
side, and  the  British,  company  after  company, 
filed  into  this  meadow,  laid  down  their  arms, 
and  then  marched,  prisoners,  into  our  lines. 
Our  army  was  not  drawn  up  that  it  might  look 
on,  yet  Whitestone  and  I  stood  where  we  could 
see. 

Some  women,  weary  and  worn  by  suspense 
and  long  watches,  came  across  the  meadow, 


312  THE   SUN   OF   SARATOGA. 

but  Kate  Van  Auken  was  not  among  them.  I 
guessed  that  she  was  by  the  side  of  the  wounded 
Chudleigh.  When  the  last  company  was  laying 
down  its  arms,  I  sHpped  away  from  Whitestone 
and  entered  the  British  camp. 

I  found  Chudleigh  in  a  tent,  where  they  had 
moved  him  from  the  cellar  that  he  might  get 
the  fresher  air.  Kate,  her  mother,  and  an  Eng- 
lish surgeon  were  there.  The  surgeon  had  just 
fastened  some  fresh  bandages  over  the  wound. 
Chudleigh  was  stronger  and  better  than  I  had 
expected  to  find  him.  He  even  held  out  his  hand 
to  me  with  the  smile  of  one  who  has  met  an 
enemy  and  respects  him. 

''  I  will  be  all  right  soon,  Shelby,"  he  said, 
"  so  the  doctor  tells  me,  if  you  rebels  know  how 
to  treat  a  wounded  prisoner  well." 

"  In  a  month  Captain  Chudleigh  will  be  as 
well  as  he  ever  was."  said  the  surgeon. 

I  was  very  glad  on  Kate's  accoi.iit.  Pres- 
ently she  walked  out  of  the  tent,  and  I  followed 
her. 

"  Kate,"  I  asked,  "  when  will  the  marriage 
occur?  " 

"  What  marriage?  "  she  asked  very  sharply. 

"  Yours  and  Chudleigh's." 


»» 


)) 


CAPITULATIONS.  313 

''Never!" 

"What!"  I  exclaimed  in  surprise.  ''Are 
you  not  going  to  merry  Chudleigh?  " 

**  No." 

"  Are  you  not  betrothed  to  him?  " 

"  No.    That  was  my  mother's  plan  for  me. 

"  Are  you  not  in  love  with  him?  " 

"  No." 

I  was  silent  a  moment. 

"  Kate,"  I  asked,  "  what  does  this  mean? 

"  Dick,"  she  said,  "  I  have  told  you  twice 
what  you  are." 

Her  cheeks  were  all  roses. 

"  Kate,"  I  said,  "  love  me. 

"I  will  not!" 

"  Be  my  betrothed? 

"I  will  not!" 

"  Marry  me?  " 

''I  will  not!" 

Which  refusals  she  made  with  great  em- 
phasis— every  one  of  which  she  took  back. 

She  was  a  woman. 


THE   END. 


M 


If 


